


Heart and Soul

by Nightlyxx



Category: Percy Jackson and the Olympians & Related Fandoms - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Vampire, Attempted Murder, Blood Drinking, Camp Half-Blood (Percy Jackson), M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Protective Percy, Romance, Vampires, What Was I Thinking?, i was drunk when i started this, potential smut, vampire!Percy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-03-17
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:49:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 40,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23101993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nightlyxx/pseuds/Nightlyxx
Summary: Nico let out nasty, dry gasping sounds. His neck was hot and already aching. Anger and fear filled him as he looked up at the man who stood above him, staring down at Nico with a frown, as if he were looking at a dying and squirming bug.“Gods, Triton. You can’t just choke out humans!” Percy growled and rushed to Nico’s side. “Don’t mind my brother. He’s overprotective, and I have been gone for a day longer than I said I would.”“Don’t mind him?” Nico asked, his voice raspy. He violently shrugged Percy off of him and staggered to his feet. “He damn near crushed my windpipe!”-Nico, a 24-year-old nurse, is trying to live off his inheritance and forget about the absent father who left him to foster care after his mother and sister died. He knew nothing of the supernatural, their society, or their strange obsession with gaining power through blood. But, oddly enough, it doesn't freak him out as much as Percy thought it would.Percy, a 600-year-old vampire, didn't intend to be the target of a power-hungry vampire. Nor did he intend to find his long-awaited mate outside a vampire bar, insisting to stitch him up after a bit of a stab.
Relationships: Annabeth Chase/Piper McLean, Hazel Levesque/Leo Valdez/Frank Zhang, Nico di Angelo/Percy Jackson
Comments: 32
Kudos: 338





	1. Chapter 1

“You can’t just…  _ punch _ people like that!” A shrill voice cried behind Nico. He paid no mind to the running footsteps behind him trying to catch up. 

“I can if they’re being a  _ dick _ !” Nico growled, rubbing the knuckles on his right hand. They throbbed in pain right down to the bone. But he was sure the other guy’s face hurt more than his hand. 

Will struggled to keep up with Nico’s fast pace. The guy had a deep scowl on his face, his dark eyebrows pulling together as he clenched his jaw and fought himself to keep from turning around and punching the other guy again. His already dark eyes seemed even darker in his anger. 

“Nico, c’mon man,” Will said softly, reaching out and catching his arm. He yanked him to a stop. “We’ve talked about this. You can’t punch every person who makes fun of us.”

Nico looked at him, his scowl softening into a frown. He stopped rubbing his knuckles. Will was almost as tall as him and the exact opposite in complexion. Where Nico had dark hair and dark eyes, Will was blond-haired and blue-eyed, light skin that turned a frighteningly  _ bright _ red when he got too much sun, and a thin body that sometimes seemed very lanky. 

They had been roommates for years, and he was practically the only person Nico had. They shared a room when they were in college and had moved into a flat together a year before graduation because they were comfortable with each other. And they were both certain Nico was the only one who could put up with Will’s late nights and ranting about the difficulties of med school. 

“So  _ what _ if they think we’re together?” Will asked, carefully noting that the other guy was picking himself up off the floor and stumbling away from them. “We pretty much do everything together. It  _ can _ be an honest mistake.” 

Nico tutted. “I don’t care if people think we’re an item, Will. I  _ care _ when they’re  _ homophobic _ . I’m just trying to have a drink, man. I don’t want to sit down with my friend and be called a faggot for it. It’s twenty-twenty for fuck’s sake!” 

Will gave a deep sigh and couldn’t help the chuckle that left his mouth. “ _ Dude _ . You have  _ got _ to keep your anger in check. And don’t let the gay-friendly media fool you. Homophobia is still alive and well.” 

“But tolerance is more widespread than it used to be, William.” Nico shoved his hands into his jacket pockets, his frown returning to a scowl, just less intense and less frightening. “I may… also have had too much to drink… I’m going home.” 

“How long were you here?” Will asked, straightening and giving him a confused look. He had only been at the bar for half an hour, but he had met Nico there who was already waiting for him. “Cecil, Lou, and Kayla are on their way.” 

“I’ve been here for almost two hours. I came after work, and that’s also when I texted you. I’ve already had a few beers. But you stay and wait for the others. I’ll see you at home.” He started to turn away but turned back when Will looked like he was going to protest. “Dude, seriously. You look like you could use a couple more drinks.” 

Will looked torn, twisting his phone in his hand as he looked back at the bar they stood outside of. Nico was aware of how long Will’s week had been. He had a full course load and one of his professors had rescheduled their class to meet  _ twice _ this week rather than once. He’d done it in the past and Will hated it. It was a three-hour class to start with, and rather than splitting the hours in half, the professor had gone on to have  _ two _ three-hour classes on occasion. 

Nico had told him on more than one occasion to just skip the class. He wasn’t even entirely sure the professor was allowed to do that, but Will had been adamant that he  _ needed _ to go to the lectures. Nico didn’t argue too hard.  _ He _ wasn’t the one in med school, so he wasn’t sure what Will  _ really _ needed to do and what classes he needed to take and attend. 

“Alright,” Will relented after thirty seconds. “Be  _ careful _ , though. I’m not about to go pick your ass up from the police station for public intoxication.” 

Nico scoffed. “I can handle myself. I’m a professional. I’ll see you at home.” 

“Be careful!” He called again as Nico turned away and started off down the street. Nico lifted his hand and gave Will the peace sign. 

He wasn’t the only one out, and he never was. Nico could go out at any time of the day or night in Manhattan and he wouldn’t be alone. That’s what he liked about the city. 

But there were downsides to nighttime in the city. It wasn’t safe—not that the day was safe either, but the night was a whole different environment. It was when nefarious characters came out, those who lived on the outside of society, their actions and deeds hidden in the dark. Nico distrusted everyone around him at night more than he did during the day. He didn’t have to only make sure his wallet, keys, and phone stayed in his pocket, but he also had to make sure he was about to get jumped. 

He couldn’t get lost in thought or daydreams when he made his way home at night, and that was pretty much the only reason he liked being alone. 

“Ay, my man—”

Nico cut the man off with a hard scowl and a vicious growl, “I’m not giving you shit.” 

Nico had spent enough time running around the streets as a teen that the black looks he’d learnt to give actually gave people pause. The man’s face had a flood of different expressions: anger, confusion, arrogance, and then, finally, resignation. Nico was aware he was being sized up by the man, and he did what he knew best. It was an instinctive stance of slightly puffing out his chest and moving his arms away from his body slightly to make himself seem a little bigger than he actually was. The hard and almost feral look on his face was enough to have the man backing off. 

“Aight. Shit. My bad.” He held up his hands in a pacifying manner and made a show of carefully crossing the street. Nico didn’t move until he saw that the man was all the way on the other side. 

Nico continued his walk with a scowl. He wondered briefly why he came  _ this _ way. It wasn’t the route he’d taken from the subway to get to the bar. It wasn’t particularly late, but it was late enough that he had to be more cautious than he’d have liked to be. 

He looked around at the back of the dark buildings. Some lights were on in the windows, and some people loitered around on their fire escapes, either ignoring him or watching him. Other than that, no one bothered him. None of the people lingering on the streets approached him either, and he was grateful for it. 

A door to what looked like a warehouse slammed open suddenly, causing Nico to jump and freeze where he stood. He looked incredulously at the building as two men flew out of the open door. As soon as they were outside, the door was slammed shut behind them and they tumbled to the ground. 

The pair grappled each other in a blur, the movements too fast for Nico to keep up with it. He gaped at them, at their speed. He’d seen plenty of fights, had even been in plenty, but never had they ever been that fast. He couldn’t see anything specific, just a flurry of movement, reminding him of a speeding car. The only details that jumped out at him was the colour of their hair. One was blond and the other looked to have black hair. 

They came to a halt, the abrupt stillness was jarring enough to spring Nico into action. He stepped forwards, and the sound of his movements seemed to finally alert them of his presence. The blond looked over to him with a vicious snarl—an  _ actual _ snarl, causing Nico to hesitate. 

In all his formative years running around with the wrong crowds and getting into and stopping fights, he’d never been  _ snarled _ at. It hadn’t been the vicious look that suggested the man might gut him that gave him pause, it had been the snarl that sounded like a wild animal that did it. Nico was no stranger to getting dangerous looks, he’d even given a few himself. 

As he looked into the blond man’s pale blue eyes, Nico felt his muscles lock up and his heart pick up pace in his chest. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up and a shudder racked his body. There was something about his eyes that he hadn’t seen before he’d heard the snarl. They were just as malevolent and feral as snarl had been. Everything inside of Nico told him to run. 

But it was the other man that had him challenging his own fight-or-flight response. He wasn’t looking at Nico. He was looking down, his hands hovering around the other man’s hand that looked like it was pressed against his side. In the dark, Nico could see a growing dark spot in the area of their hands. 

Nico settled himself and took another step forwards, holding out his hands but keeping a hard look on his face. He hoped his glare was just as ferocious as the blond man’s. “Get away from him.” 

He kept his voice level and continued to walk forwards. His eyes dropped down to where their hands were again, and the blond man’s eyes followed. He looked up at the dark-haired man, yanked him in to say something into his ear, pushed him back and took off. Nico didn’t have time to marvel at the man’s speed, he took off in a blur very much like their fighting had been. 

The other one, though, stumbled back and fell into the street with a barely audible groan. Nico rushed towards him. 

“I am fine,” the man said when Nico reached him. He struggled to sit up, but Nico put a hand on his chest and kept firm pressure to signal that he shouldn’t get up. 

“You’re bleeding where you shouldn’t be.” Nico didn’t meet his eyes and instead kept them on the obvious wound. He didn’t ask permission to lift his shirt, even when there was a small voice in the back of his head that told him he probably should have. 

Could he be sued for this? 

“What are you doing?” There was something about the man’s voice that sounded weird to Nico. It sounded too… clear. There was a strange resonance to it, almost too perfect.

Nico wished he had gloves. He hated the feeling of blood on his hands. Of blood on skin. It felt too slippery. It wasn’t the same as when it was just water on the skin. Blood was thicker than water, and this man’s skin felt disgustingly slimy, as if Nico were touching the surface of jello. 

He was cold to the touch and Nico cursed under his breath. 

“It doesn’t look too serious,” he said. It looked like a stab wound, about an inch and a half long and only a couple of centimetres wide. “It looks like it’s just gone through muscle. Assuming your organs aren’t abnormally far apart.” The wound was on the man’s farthest right side of his abdomen. 

Nico gingerly prodded at the bloodied skin around the wound, glad that not too much blood came out. The man hissed, though, and gripped his hand tightly. Nico finally looked up at him, and he didn’t know whether it was a mistake or not. 

He’d never seen eyes so bright before. They were nothing like the ferocious pale blue ones from the other man. They were a very clear green despite the visible pain in his eyes and etched on his beautiful face. 

_ Beautiful _ face. Nico had never described a man’s face like that before. He’d called men handsome and good looking before, but those words fell flat significantly for descriptive words for this guy’s face. For once in his life, Nico was at a loss for words. 

“Y-you should go to a hospital,” Nico told him, his voice starting out small and weak before he managed to give it some strength towards the end. “I’ll call you an ambulance. I don’t think you should take the subway—” 

“No ambulance,” the man said, still holding Nico’s hand tightly. “And no hospital.” 

It was then that Nico noticed the slightest accent. He hadn’t heard it before, not until he heard the faintest ‘h’ sound and the faintest sound of a sharp ‘t’, as if the man’s tongue got too close to the back of his front teeth. 

“Sir, you can’t just wander around like this. You need stitches.” Nico tore his eyes away from his face and looked back down at the wound. “Your wound needs to be cleaned—it needs to be examined, and I am not a doctor.” 

“No hospital,” the man repeated, a little more force in his tone. Nico looked up again with a sigh. 

He was close to giving orders. His nurse voice was about to come out, but he stopped himself. There was a reason why this man didn’t want to go to a hospital, and Nico couldn’t blame him. Hospitals sucked, and he worked at one. 

Nico racked his brain for solutions. He very well couldn’t allow this man to wander around with a stab wound, nor could he stomach him going to some shady route to get sutures. He’d been stitched up by some shady friends a few times, and he  _ really _ didn’t recommend it. 

“Fine,” Nico said, using his other hand to loop his arm under the man’s. 

“What are you doing?” 

“I’m a registered nurse. Though I’m not permitted to stitch people up, I can do it for you. If you’re not going to go to the hospital to get it done, then you’re coming to my apartment so I can do it.” 

Nico expected protest. Any normal person would have.  _ Nico _ would have protested going to some stranger’s house, simply just prattling off that he was an RN wouldn’t have been enough for him. Hell, Nico wouldn’t have even allowed a stranger to  _ touch _ him if he’d been stabbed. 

But the man was quite reserved. He even helped Nico lift him to his feet, finally releasing his hand. He was taller than Nico, and rather heavy. Nico hadn’t been oblivious to the man’s toned stomach, the firmness of the muscles beneath. This man was pure muscle, but he wasn’t overly muscular. 

“How far are you taking me?” 

“We’ll have to get a taxi. I meant what I said about it not being a good idea for you to take the subway.”

“Are you normally this bossy?” 

-

Nico couldn’t help but get the sense that something was wrong. Something wasn’t right with the man whose name he learnt was Percy. He hadn’t been a nurse for long, nor was he the best out there. Sure, he had managed to land a very good job through NYU after graduating with a BSN, but there was still a  _ lot _ for him to learn. 

But Nico grew up honing his intuition for survival. He had gotten quite good at calling when something was off. Percy was clammy and pale and shivering. His skin still felt cold to the touch. The man’s gorgeous eyes were now glazed and droopy, and whenever Nico tried to make conversation to break the silence and to try to distract him from whatever pain he was feeling, all he got back in response were grunts. 

As he led Percy into Nico’s apartment building, Nico found himself supporting most of Percy’s weight, shouldering his weakening body and keeping them both from eating shit whenever Percy stumbled. 

“Thirsty,” Percy murmured once they were in the elevator. His voice sounded deeper than when Nico had first heard him speak. It still held a captivating resonance to it, leaving Nico wishing he could hear Percy speak with that tone forever. 

“I’ll get you some water when we reach my apartment,” Nico told him gently. He readjusted his grip on him. 

It had taken them an hour to finally reach Nico’s building, and he was completely sober by now. He’d had a nice buzz going on before, toeing that delicious line of drunkenness Nico sought out sometimes. He’d lost it sometime during the cab ride trying to keep Percy lucid. 

“Are you sure I can’t take you to a hospital?” Nico asked as he practically carried Percy to his door. “This looks more serious than just a—” 

Percy cut him off with a growl, “ _ No _ hospital!” He reached his free clammy hand to grip Nico’s that held him on his side. Nico’s arm was curled around his back to offer more support than just slinging Percy’s arm over his shoulders. “I can’t— I can’t go there.  _ You _ help me. Only you.” 

“Alright, alright,” Nico said, struggling to open his door. “Just me.” 

“A couple of days,” Percy said quietly. “For a couple of days. Can you do that?” 

Nico bit his bottom lip as he dragged Percy inside his flat, flicking on the lights and kicking the door closed behind him. Take care of a complete stranger for a couple of days? Sure, he had brought the guy to his apartment, but he knew Percy wouldn’t be able to get past security or up the elevator without him or his key should he wish to come back and try some shit. But taking care of him for a couple of days seemed a little…  _ much _ . 

Just as he was opening his mouth to gently tell Percy that he couldn’t do that, he felt an odd sense of serenity sinking into his mind. There was a soft hum in the back of his thoughts, softening his trepidation. Nico suddenly felt as warm as he did when he drank too much but without the dizziness and nasty taste on his numbing tongue. 

“Please,” Percy said, leaning into him and resting his head against Nico’s. “A couple of days of rest.” 

Nico closed his eyes, lost in the warmth he was feeling, the purposeful contact Percy was initiating. The soft, melodic hum grew louder, scattering the warning Nico’s rational mind was trying to give him.

_ It’s just a couple of days _ , Nico dazedly rationalised in his head.  _ A couple of days of rest _ . 

“I can do that,” Nico said softly, leaning into Percy just as much as he was doing to him. His grip on his waist tightened. He almost hummed the melody he was hearing in his head out loud. But before he could, the sound faded away, leaving behind a slight craving to hear it again. 

“Thank you.” 

Nico led him to the couch, shaking off the haze he still felt in his mind. He helped Percy lie down comfortably, pausing whenever he hissed in pain or whined in discomfort. It took a couple of minutes before Nico could finally pull away, for Percy to be lying as comfortably as he could. 

Under the daylight bulbs Nico and Will had in their flat, Nico could finally see  _ just _ how pale Percy was. He hadn’t gotten the chance to observe him when they’d gotten into the lobby or in the lift, but he did it now. 

Percy’s black hair that came down just above his shoulders was a mess around his head, the sweat on his face had some of it sticking to his forehead. He wasn’t bleeding all that much, but how pale he was concerned Nico. His full black eyebrows were pulled together in what Nico assumed was pain. His eyes were closed, but there were lines around them that came out with the grimace he wore on his face. And his lips that were just as full as his eyebrows were a little dry and drawn into a tight line. 

“Let me get you some water,” Nico said. “And then I’m going to have to get you out of your shirt. I’ll be a couple of minutes while I get the supplies.” 

Percy’s nod was barely visible. Nico did quick work of getting him water and helping him drink it before he went off in search of Will’s first aid kit. Nico had one himself, but Will’s had more supplies, including what he would need for sutures. Nico’s just consisted of different types of plasters, gauze, alcohol wipes, and burn ointment. Will’s was a fifty-dollar hospital-grade kit with everything he would need for Percy. 

He made a mess of Will’s room trying to find it, throwing things around his otherwise tidy room. He was sure Will wouldn’t mind, especially since it was for a good cause. Nico had once overturned the guy’s entire bed—frame and all—on a quest to get rid of the neighbour’s cat that had scurried in one day while Will was at school. Nico had only gone through such lengths because Will was severely allergic to them. 

While he found the first aid kit, he also found the ear thermometer Will was very proud of, as well as a box of latex gloves and a bottle of Tylenol. He wasn’t sure  _ why _ Will had a box of latex gloves, but he didn’t really want to know in case it was for something that would disgust him. 

“Do you have any allergies to any medications or latex?” Nico asked as he walked back into the living room. Percy’s eyes were still closed and he’d managed to remove his shirt himself. 

“No,” Percy replied. 

“Good,” Nico set everything down on the coffee table, “let me get you some more water so you can take a couple of Tylenol. It won’t make the pain go away, nor will it work right away, but it should alleviate some of your discomfort when it kicks in.” 

“Whiskey,” Percy said, “do you have whiskey?” 

Nico paused with the cup he’d set down on the coffee table in his hand. He got flashbacks of all the times he threw back a few shots of whiskey before he had one of his friends stitch up whatever slices he got from some coward pulling out a knife during a fight. Nico couldn’t afford to go to a hospital and he knew a few quacks who could do a decent suture job. 

Nico’s own suture skills were a combination of what he’d learnt from shady doctors he’d met and seen for some mild back-alley medical treatment and what he’d learnt from actual licensed professionals who were willing to show him how to do it. He didn’t know many techniques, but he could do a pretty good interrupted stitch. 

“Sorry,” Nico told him, “if I had any, I’d have brought that out to you instead of the water. Tylenol is all we have.” 

“We?” Percy asked. 

“I have a roommate.” Nico walked into the kitchen to get Percy more water so he didn’t have to dry swallow the Tylenol. “He’s chill, so you don’t have to worry about him… this wouldn’t be the first time I’ve brought someone home to sew them back together.” 

“ _ Sew them back together _ ?” Percy asked with a hint of amusement in his strained voice. Nico helped him sit up when he gave him two pills. Percy threw them back with a swallow of water before easing his way back down. 

“Yeah,” Nico said a little sheepishly. “I used to run around with some…  _ questionable _ … crowds as a teen. Will and I have been roommates since undergrad. My shady friends would come over for some amateur medical treatment when they learned what I was going to school for.” 

“But you’re only a registered nurse, not a doctor.” 

“They didn’t care.” Nico shrugged and pulled on a pair of gloves before he began to situate everything. He readied his needle and grabbed a few alcohol wipes. “They gave me fifty bucks to do whatever I could that could get them back on their feet.” 

Percy snorted. “Broke college students.” 

Nico rolled his eyes. “I wasn’t  _ that _ broke. But fifty dollars is fifty dollars.” 

Percy’s chuckle was tight as Nico cleaned the area of his wound. The silence that fell between them again was oddly comfortable despite how aware they both were knowing Percy was in pain. The man didn’t make any more noises as Nico finished cleaning the wound and began the sutures. Earlier as they had been walking and adjusting Percy on the couch, he would voice his pain a little, but now he was practically silent. The only way Nico knew he was still feeling was the subtle change in his breathing and the muscle contractions of his abdomen. 

It felt strange to Nico how comfortable he was with helping Percy like this. It was different if it were in the hospital (where he was  _ not _ permitted, let alone officially qualified, to stitch people up) because people came there for help, for medical treatment. It was where they were supposed to go when things weren’t quite right, and it was a place for them to go. But this was Nico and Will’s  _ home _ . 

Sure, Nico had stitched up people in their dorms and their first apartment, but he loosely knew those people or had run with them when he was a teen. He didn’t know Percy  _ at all _ . The man was a stranger, and he could very well be a dangerous one, but whenever Nico thought of the possibility of rescinding his agreement to let Percy stay and rest for a couple of days, there was a small voice and hum in the back of his head, telling him that it was  _ only _ for a couple of days. 

Nico was done before he realised, his hands on autopilot. He found himself tying off the last stitch when Percy finally grunted softly, showing that the end of the laceration was perhaps more tender than the middle of it. Nico gave a soft, reassuring hum as he cut the excess string. 

“All done,” Nico murmured as he reached behind him, setting down the needle holder and forceps and switching them out with some gauze and medical tape. “I should have done this earlier, but let me take your blood pressure real fast  _ just to make sure _ .”

He quickly taped gauze to cover the wound before manually taking Percy’s blood pressure since they didn’t own any sort of cuff. Nico counted and did the math in his head before telling Percy his blood pressure was okay. It wasn’t until he laid eyes on the ear thermometer that the concern for his temperature rose up again in Nico. 

Percy had long since stopped sweating, and the paleness of his skin looked like it couldn’t have ever been any other colour—it looked  _ normal _ . Percy’s eyes were closed and his face was relaxed, as was his breathing. Nico didn’t think he was asleep, but it almost seemed like it. 

“One more thing,” Nico said, his voice as soft and soothing as he could make it. Percy looked comfortable finally, and he didn’t really want to ruin it. He grabbed the thermometer. “Don’t be alarmed, I’m going to put something in your ear.” Percy hummed in acknowledgement. 

Nico turned on the thermometer. A small voice in the back of his mind told him that checking Percy’s temperature wasn’t necessary, but he ignored it. His hand shook slightly as he lifted the device to his ear. He felt nervous suddenly, fear that he might see something he wouldn’t like. What if Nico really did have to take him to the hospital? 

Percy stiffened a little when Nico finally put the thermometer in his ear. Nico gave a soft apology. He hated the thing, personally. He had gotten a fever when Will first bought and the guy was  _ excited _ to use it despite Nico’s protests. 

“Um…” Nico murmured, staring at the temperature on the screen in confusion. He removed the thermometer and stared down at the reading with a frown. “Sorry, one more time.” 

His frown deepened when the numbers popped up the same on the screen after the second check. He then stuck it in his own ear, but  _ his _ reading came back normal.  “Dude,” Nico said in a small voice, taking Percy’s temperature for a third time. And for a third time, Percy’s temperature came back as sixty-eight degrees Fahrenheit. “How the  _ fuck _ are you alive?” 


	2. Chapter 2

“Dude… how the  _ fuck _ are you even alive?” Nico’s eyes were wide as he continued to stare at the numbers on the thermometer, as he was trying to force them to change. “Your core temperature is below seventy!” 

“ _ Dude _ ?” Percy murmured almost weakly. His eyes were closed, eyebrows scrunched together as if the Tylenol had  _ actually _ been working and had already worn off. “Don’t worry about my temperature.” His accent was a little thicker, Nico noticed in his awe of the temperature the thermometer was flashing back at him. “And please… don’t call me  _ dude _ . I’m far too old for that.” 

Nico couldn’t help the snort. He was still worried and  _ baffled _ at the reading, but everything just felt so ridiculous so suddenly. “ _ Too old _ my ass! You look no more than twenty-five.” He took Percy’s temperature one more time  _ just in case _ . It came back no different. 

“Stop sticking that damned thing in my ear.” 

There was an almost irrational part of him that wanted to burst out laughing.  _ How  _ could Will’s thermometer be so wrong? 

“Percy, you shouldn’t be  _ alive _ if this reading is correct.” Nico set down the device and took off his glove to lay the back of his hand across Percy’s forehead. His skin was just as cold as it had been in the alley. He cursed under his breath and stood. 

He didn’t know what to do. Despite how strange and clearly dire the situation was about Percy’s temperature, he felt a  _ lot _ calmer than he should be. There were the faintest of whispers of that enthralling humming in the back of his mind, clouding the panic that was trying to crawl its way to the surface. 

_ Just get him some blankets _ , Nico told himself calmly.  _ A couple of blankets and he will be fine. No need to panic _ . 

“No need to panic,” he murmured to himself as he stood from Percy’s side and stalked off to get Percy some blankets. He needed to warm him up as best as he could. “No need to panic, Nico.” 

Percy was calm, and he was the one who had gotten stabbed, so why shouldn’t Nico be calm, too?

Nico and Will kept spare blankets for guests who stayed over a day or two, no matter how rare it was. They had spare blankets and spare pillows for those rare occasions. Sometimes Will’s mom came up from Tennessee to spend time with ‘her boys’ because she had decided to adopt Nico as her son even though he was twenty-four. 

He grabbed a comforter and a soft, heavy blanket that was usually reserved for the winter months. He figured Percy would need it. He also grabbed him a pillow and hurried back to the living room. 

Nico’s mind felt so muddled quite suddenly. He felt like he should have been freaking out, panicking over Percy’s temperature reading.  _ How the hell was he that cold _ ? And  _ alive _ ? The human core temperature could safely sit between ninety-seven to ninety-nine degrees, one hundred and higher was fever. Hypothermia began at less than ninety- _ five _ degrees. Percy’s temperature was thirty degrees less than it should have been. 

But there was a strange calmness working to snuff out Nico’s rising panic. Both came in waves when he thought about the reading, and it was always that calmness that won out. Percy was fine. He just needed rest. Blankets would be nice, get him some. He will be better in the morning, do not worry. 

_ Calmati, Nico _ . He almost swayed at the small Italian word. He hadn’t been spoken to in such since his mother and sister died. But he could have sworn he heard  _ ‘cálmate’ _ instead, the Spanish version. It was his mother’s voice that he had heard, however, and she had only known Italian and broken English. 

“ _ Calmati _ , Nico,” he muttered to himself as he began to lay the blankets over Percy and helped him adjust so Nico could slip the pillow beneath his head. 

“Was that Italian?” Percy murmured sleepily. 

“Yeah.”

In a soft whisper that indicated Percy was on the precipice of sleep, he said, “I knew Italian once upon a time.” 

Percy’s breathing changed almost immediately then and Nico blinked down at him, a little surprised. He didn’t know many people who could fall asleep  _ that _ fast, and he was a little jealous. Sleep didn’t come so easily to him even though he sincerely wished it did. He couldn’t recall a time that he had ever fallen asleep so seamlessly. 

Percy’s face was relaxed and he looked a few years younger than he did when he was awake. His damp hair was drying on his forehead, but his skin still looked concerningly pale. His skin wasn’t  _ white _ , however, and Nico could see that through his pallor. 

Nico’s mind went back to a geology class he’d been forced to take his second year at university. His teacher had brought out her own personal box of gemstones she’d either found or bought. He remembered picking up what he  _ thought _ was a dull piece of amber but had actually turned out to be citrine. It wasn’t really all that amber-looking, the colour wasn’t rich like all the amber pieces he’d seen before. 

The piece of citrine he’d picked up hadn’t been yellow but more an orange-brown. And it had only looked dull because his teacher had  _ found _ the gemstone and hadn’t bothered to clean it off. But it was a pleasant orange-brown and wasn’t strong in pigment. 

The memory of the stone reminded him of what Percy’s skin  _ might _ look like if he weren’t so pale. Sun-kissed skin, a soft orange-brown that suggested not  _ too much _ sun but enough. Nico quite liked the colour of the citrine stone his teacher had, and he quite liked the thought that Percy’s skin could very well be similar in colour. 

Nico frowned at the thought. He’d never thought so hard about someone’s  _ skin tone _ before. He’d met plenty of good-looking men just on the  _ subway _ , and he’d never thought of them beyond their pretty face. He took in their looks as a whole rather than individual pieces like he had been doing with Percy. 

Nico had noticed the striking colour of his eyes, the fullness of his lips and eyebrows. His  _ hair _ . Oh, god. The man’s  _ hair _ . Despite that he had been sweating earlier, his black hair didn’t even seem  _ dirty _ . As the longer pieces in the front that draped across Percy’s forehead were drying, they looked clean and silky and Nico’s fingers twitched with the desire to run through it. 

“What the hell are you doing, Nico?” He whispered to himself and stood up quickly. He was just  _ staring _ at Percy. While he  _ slept _ . 

He shook his head and turned to grab the mess he’d made on the coffee table. He was quiet and quick about it, gathering up the unused supplies and stuffing them back inside the kit. He held it in one hand and had the crumpled trash in his other, being careful with the used suture needle. 

Nico snorted. “I was just fucking  _ staring _ at him.” 

-

Nico’s door burst open and he groaned in annoyance. The hall light flooded into his dark room and he opened one bleary eye to see the silhouette of Will. He  _ knew _ it was Will because of his shape, the way he stood, the length of his hair.

“ _ Who _ is on our  _ couch _ ?” He hissed quietly, storming into Nico’s room. 

“His name is Percy. Be quiet. I texted you.” Nico shut his eye and turned the other way so the hall light wasn’t shining in his face. 

He had texted Will before going to bed, but he hadn’t gotten an answer or an acknowledgement before he’d fallen asleep. Nico didn’t think much of it, as it  _ really _ wasn’t the first time Nico had brought home some possible shady people to stay the night. But it had been a couple of years since the last one, so he supposed he understood Will’s annoyance. 

“And you made a mess of my room.” 

“I was looking for the first aid kit. Now  _ get out _ .” 

Nico could hear the slight slurring of his words and he hoped Will had gotten a ride home from Kayla rather than taking a taxi or the subway. Nico could handle public transportation while he was drunk, but he was worried about how Will would fare if he tried it. The guy was soft and too trusting. He wasn’t aware of himself when he was drunk, and people were vicious. 

He groaned again, knowing Will was still standing there. He turned back around to notice he was swaying slightly on his feet. Nico picked up his phone to check the time and then sat up quickly. It had been eleven when he’d left Will at the bar, but it was now three in the morning. Will didn’t stay that long at a bar and  _ only _ drink beer. 

“Alright, c’mon,” Nico said as he stumbled off his bed, his limbs protesting at the movement. 

He was supposed to be  _ sleeping _ , they seemed to tell him through his uncoordinated stumbling. His body felt numb, big, sluggish. His eyes were dry. The light was too bright. And Will was  _ drunk _ . 

“I think I’m going to throw up.” Will’s voice sounded deeper, as if he were holding back a gag. 

“I  _ know _ you’re going to throw up. Come on.” Nico grabbed him by his arm and rushed him to the bathroom. 

Will didn’t drink liquor often, usually just a couple of beers. The poor guy didn’t know when to stop with the shots. He didn’t realise how few shots it took to get drunk. Nico had watched him throw back five shots of vodka in a row once.  _ Nico _ would never do such a thing, and he was a veteran at drinking. 

Nico could smell the bile on his breath already as he steered Will to the toilet. He protested, but Nico was stronger and Will was unsteady. He managed to get him to his knees, lift the seat, and push his head so it hovered over the opening. He kicked the door closed and no sooner did Will begin to vomit. 

Exhaustion lingered in Nico’s body as he rummaged through the drawers in the bathroom as quietly as he could. They had hair clips somewhere because Will disliked his hair in his face when he was studying but refused to shorten his chin-length hair. The clips also came in handy for times like these. 

“I’m going to go get you some water,” he said, keeping his voice as soothing as he could. He rubbed Will’s back a little. “I’ll be right back.” 

Other people would have been annoyed or upset in Nico’s predicament. He had a stranger sleeping on his couch who he’d stitched up, had gotten a little over three hours of sleep, and was now taking care of his drunk roommate who was vomiting in the toilet.  _ Will _ would have been annoyed if Nico came home drunk and started throwing up. 

Sure, Nico felt a little irritated, but he felt like he had no right to be properly upset. He hadn’t been an easy teen and  _ had _ come home  _ countless _ times in Will’s state. He’d stumble into his foster homes three sheets to the wind and confrontational. He’d wake them up because he was loud and  _ very _ uncoordinated and then they would come out and yell at him. Nico would yell right back and then throw up all over the place out of spite. 

His last foster home, however, didn’t shun him when he did it. It was from them that he learned how to not only drink as responsibly as a teenager could but also to take care of someone in a similar state because they actually had the patience for him. When Will or his other former friends got plastered, Nico simply emulated what his last foster parents did for him. 

They spoke in such soothing voices, rubbed his back as he puked his guts, gave him water, gave him crackers, made sure he made it to bed alright. They left water on the nightstand for him. They gave him Pedialyte when he crawled out of his dark cave with a severe hangover. They didn’t yell at him, they weren’t cold to him for the night’s events. They made him dry foods, bought him greasy foods, and avoided  _ eggs _ .

And that’s what Nico did for Will or others when they came to him in a drunken stupor. He spoke softly, soothingly. He rubbed their backs, held their hair away from their face if it was necessary. He tried to get them as hydrated as they could tolerate. He was never angry for taking care of them and he never made them feel more embarrassed than they already felt. Other people would tell him he didn’t have to take care of them, but he always ignored them. 

He liked being taken care of like that when he drank way too much, so of course he would do it for someone else if they needed it. 

“Do you always feel compelled to take care of people?” Percy asked quietly from the couch, scaring the shit out of Nico and causing him to curse in Italian. The man chuckled quietly. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you.” 

Nico held one hand to his calming heart and unclenched the fist of his other hand that had furled on a survival instinct. “Jesus,  _ fuck _ . I didn’t think you’d be awake.  _ I’m _ sorry. Did we wake you?”

“I was awake before the heaving.” 

“Ah,” Nico said as he entered the kitchen. “Do you need or want anything while I’m in here? I can get you some more water, or perhaps make you some food if you’re hungry.” 

“Water shall be fine, thank you.” Nico heard Percy shift on the couch and then a quiet groan. He didn’t question  _ why _ Percy was awake. Nico wouldn’t be able to sleep comfortably either if he’d been stabbed  _ and _ was staying at a stranger’s home. 

He came out with two glasses, one for Percy and the other for Will. Softly, he said, “Try to get more sleep. Your body needs rest, and it  _ will _ get its rest.” 

“Of course, Doctor Nico.” 

“ _ Nurse _ Nico,” he corrected with a chuckle as he handed Percy the glass. “But really, Percy, try to get some sleep.” Nico offered him a soft smile, the first time he’d done so since they’d met a few hours ago. 

Percy returned the same smile, revealing unsurprisingly perfect teeth, though the incisors were a  _ bit _ longer than Nico would have imagined. Maybe just a bit longer than the average. And sharper. As soon as he thought about it, the observation was quick to leave his mind. 

Nico made his way down the corridor and back to the bathroom where he could hear Will heaving again. He sighed inwardly, realising it may be a couple of hours before he could convince Will to get to bed. Throwing up while drunk was a… an  _ unsettling _ experience, especially for Will who thought too much. Nico had a feeling he’d end up sleeping in Will’s bed just to appease him. 

-

He woke up in Will’s bed, his back turned away from him as he balanced on the edge of the queen size mattress. Will was laying on his back, spread-eagle, snoring loudly and dispersing the stench of alcohol breath in the small space he and Nico shared on the mattress. The room was otherwise quite large, but the space he and Will were sharing was small in comparison. 

It was only nine in the morning, and Nico groaned quietly. He managed to drag Will off to bed at around six, trying to convince the guy that  _ no, he’ll be fine _ , he  _ won’t _ choke on his vomit in his sleep. He hadn’t sobered up by then and kept dumping out the water Nico was trying to give him. Nico got a little frustrated and decided to let Will deal with the consequences of refusing hydration. 

But that was Sleep-Deprived Nico, and now that he’d gotten a few more hours of sleep, he realised that Will would  _ really _ be hurting. And Percy. A quick trip to a grocery store would be in order. They had no Pedialyte. Such would be good for  _ both _ Percy and Will—both needed hydration. Pedialyte was good for that. 

Maybe some things for breakfast. He and Will hardly ever ate  _ proper _ breakfast. Neither of them really had the time, the patience, or the stomach for breakfast so early in the morning. On the weekdays, Nico had to be at work by eight, which meant he had to get up at around  _ five _ to get ready and be out the door early enough to make it to work on time. 

They only really ate breakfast on the weekends, and their breakfast was usually at around twelve or one in the afternoon. By then, they could eat whatever the hell they wanted and  _ not _ be looked at weirdly. Nico’s favourite was lasagne for breakfast, especially if it was leftovers. 

He made quick work to change his clothes, brush his teeth, finger through his otherwise dishevelled hair, and leave as quickly and quietly as possible. He left a sticky note for Will, reminding him about Percy in the living room should he wake up before Nico got back. He’d placed the bright yellow paper at Will’s no-doubt-stooped eye level so he wouldn’t miss it. He left Percy a note as well, folding it in half and standing it up on the coffee table so that it was noticeable too. 

The grocery market was close enough that Nico was able to walk. He’d grabbed his backpack that he used for little trips like this and weaved his way through the morning foot traffic. He kept his hands in his pockets, earbuds in his ears playing music, and eyes naturally alert for anything that might cause him harm. 

Nothing ever did happen to him when he walked around, and the last time he’d had a problem with someone had been years ago. He liked to think he’d outgrown his punk phase. But he wasn’t averse to kicking someone’s ass if he had to. 

Nico had been halfway through his short grocery list of potatoes, bacon, a couple of cans of pozole  _ just in case _ , gravy mix, biscuits for the oven, and three bottles of Pedialyte when he realised he was being followed. It was a familiar feeling, an unsettling one. He hated it. 

“Excuse me,” a woman murmured beside him, reaching over for a pack of bacon that Nico stood in front of. He moved out of her way with a soft apology. 

He eyed her for a couple of seconds. Wavy blonde hair, striking grey eyes. A toned arm reaching out into the cooler, long delicate-looking fingers. Unsuspicious in appearance. Nico felt otherwise. 

He was being followed. He  _ knew _ that. It was a creeping feeling, an uneasiness that not only settled in his stomach but also shot up his spine. Footsteps echoed around him, like his hearing zeroed in on  _ only _ those footsteps—two sets—and shut out the noise of a busy market with amiable, annoying music playing through the loudspeakers. 

Nico went about his shopping. 

“Forty-five seventy-three,” the cashier said in a cheery voice. When did he finish his shopping? He looked at the bags on the counter. Everything he needed was there. 

Nico paid with his card and quickly put his groceries in his backpack. He felt even more unsettled as he left the store. He was by no means the only person out walking, and he should have felt comfort in the crowd to conceal him enough to rush back home, to lead whoever he felt was following him away, but that wasn’t the case. 

The hairs on the back of his neck still stood, his spine still tingled. He found that his hands were furling and unfurling where he kept them in his jacket pockets. He worked to keep his breathing even and his anger in check. Had he still been an impulsive and confrontational teen, he’d have turned around to find who was following him and then proceeded to fight them. 

He’d gotten his ass handed to him a couple of times because of behaviour like that. 

“You good, Mr di Angelo?” The doorman asked. Nico felt a little bad that he didn’t really remember his name, and the nametag on his uniform was unremarkable and unimportant to him in his current state of mounting panic. 

“Yeah,” Nico said, “just… uh… just a little tired.” 

The doorman narrowed his dark eyes slightly and scanned the street. He was a tall and muscular man, easily mistaken as a bodyguard, and perhaps that might have been a part of his job description. He was bald, too, pierced ears, hulking arms, a suddenly mean-looking face as he looked around. 

He opened the door for Nico. “Alright, alright.” He nodded, scanning again before offering Nico a smile. His face changed suddenly, no longer looking mean but rather warm and welcoming, easy and kind. “Lemme know if you got any problems.” 

“Will do.” Nico offered his own smile, but he was sure it looked as uneasy as he felt. 

Nico couldn’t get into the elevator fast enough. It took him a couple of seconds to realise that he felt  _ scared _ , and that pissed him off. But what pissed him off  _ even more _ was the fact that he had felt like someone was following him. His own experience told him that his feelings were usually spot-on, but the hopeful part of his mind wanted him to be imagining things. 

He’d been followed a few times before. All those times had led him to being jumped, his friends being jumped, and some jackass who threatened his foster parents who he had actually cared for. Nothing good had ever come out of being followed, violent things always happened after, and Nico was worried. 

But there was something about his own reaction. He was scared. He’d never been particularly scared those other times, more furious and out-for-blood when he realised what he was going on. But the feeling he’s gotten in the market was almost oppressive, the way his stomach felt like it was sinking, the sudden rapid beating of his heart, how his body temperature rose, his breathing quickening.

Nico opened his door and slipped inside quietly. He dismissed his frown and tried to calm down his own fear and anger. He was inside his flat now, and the doorman wouldn’t let anyone inside the building who didn’t belong. Guests had to buzz in for the doorman to let them through. The building also had security. And Nico was on the sixth floor. 

“How are you feeling?” Nico asked when he saw Percy sitting up. The man’s face was a little tight with discomfort. 

It felt like a different experience to see Percy in the light. He must have gotten up to open the blinds and let light into the living room because they had been closed when Nico had left a couple of hours before. That could have explained Percy’s tight expression and the now noticeable worn-out look. 

If Nico had been carrying his backpack in his hands, he might have dropped it and ruined his groceries. Because Percy looked  _ even better _ in the light of day. He could see his eyes better, even at the distance he stood at. They were  _ gorgeous _ . Captivating, luminous,  _ inviting _ . Nico wanted to get a closer look. 

“Better than yesterday. Thank you.” Percy’s voice, despite his visible discomfort, was soft and calm and just as enthralling as his eyes. 

“Tha-that’s good to hear.” Nico cleared his throat and ripped his eyes away from Percy’s. “How do you feel about biscuits and gravy for breakfast?” 

“I’ve never had it,” Percy said. Nico walked into the kitchen. “I’ll eat whatever you cook.” 

As Nico unpacked his backpack, the memory of Percy’s temperature slammed into him.  _ Sixty-eight degrees _ ? Impossible. Highly concerning. And he had just  _ let it go _ ?

He set the oven for the biscuits and began to fry the breakfast potatoes he’d chosen out. His body was on autopilot as he began to make breakfast, but his thoughts were all over the place. 

He had to make sure Percy was alright, check his wound even though he’d stitched it last night. He wanted to take his temperature again because the reading from last night was freaking him out now. He wanted to talk Percy into visiting a hospital just to make sure everything was alright, perhaps be re-stitched if Nico accidentally did anything wrong. Maybe he tied one of them too tight and Percy was too polite to tell him. 

Nico was rounding the corner of the kitchen to tell Percy he wanted to check on his stitches when he spotted someone standing on his balcony. Percy was sitting on the couch with his head leaning against the backrest and his eyes were closed. But he popped one of them opened when Nico gasped at the sight of the man. 

“What the  _ fuck _ ?!” Nico growled. He rushed forwards without thinking. He was on the  _ sixth floor _ . Who the  _ fuck _ had the  _ audacity _ to climb all the way up? 

“Nico, wait!” Percy said, rising from the couch faster than he should have. He winced, but Nico only briefly registered his reaction before he continued forwards to confront the man on his balcony. 

He was rather tall and more muscular than Nico. But Nico had taken down men his size when he was younger. Size and strength didn’t really mean anything. The man ripped open his sliding door, breaking off the lock and sending the glass door into the other side of the threshold that it shattered. 

The man moved in a blur, and something flickered in Nico’s mind. He moved like that other man from last night had moved. Too quick for Nico’s eyes to make out details. But he knew this man wasn’t the same one from last night. He was taller, more muscular, he had black hair. He looked older, had a little scruff of a beard. Nico had gotten a good look of him when he had just been standing quietly on the balcony. 

It baffled and angered him how impossibly fast the man was. Nico had barely  _ blinked _ and he suddenly found himself slammed against the wall and held in place with a hand curling around his neck. The hand was rough, calloused. 

He blocked off Nico’s airways at once and then lifted him so only his toes scraped the ground. Nico fought the instinct to gasp for air. He knew none was going to come. The pressure on his trachea was frightening, but he knew panicking wouldn’t help him. 

“ _ What _ do you think you are  _ doing _ with my  _ brother _ ?” The man growled in an indistinguishable accent. His lips were curled back, his green eyes dark and angry and threatening. 

Nico’s hands grasped his wrist, his toes scraped the ground. He had to keep himself from panicking. He could hold his breath for longer if he didn’t panic. He had to get this man’s hand off his throat. 

“Wait, stop!” Percy ordered, his tone almost desperate. 

Neither of them listened to him. 

Nico braced his feet against the wall. With all the strength and speed he could muster in his position, Nico slammed the side of his fist into the crook of the man’s elbow so his arm bent, and at the same time, he used to legs to launch himself away from the wall and towards his attacker. 

Whether it was the move or the strength that caught the man by surprised, Nico didn’t pause to ask. He bent back one of his fingers that were around his throat and the man released him as they fell. Nico was quick to roll off of him and to his feet. 

The man hopped to his feet and came at him again. He bared  _ fangs _ at Nico and  _ snarled _ , just as viciously as the man who stabbed Percy had. Maybe Nico should have run, any normal person would have. The man’s strength and speed were frightening, and Nico knew there wasn’t much he could do about it—he wasn’t a match for him in either department. But he had never been one to give up in a fight. 

He rushed forwards with a kick, aiming to knock the man off balance. While his kick landed, the man didn’t budge. His eyes visibly darkened and an almost cruel smirk spread across his lips. 

The punch the man landed square in Nico’s face had him seeing  _ stars _ . The tears that sprang to his eyes were immediate and the sudden rushing sound in his ears was scary enough he almost panicked. He didn’t hear or feel a crunch, but the blood that gushed out of his nose and the blinding pain made him feel as if his nose had actually been broken. 

Nico stumbled back, eyes closed and hands flying to his face. He’d been hit in the nose before, and while the hits act as a stun, Nico usually recovered from them fairly quickly. But  _ this one _ ? Nico’s knees buckled and he almost fell. He could taste blood and feel it dripping off his chin. 

He hadn’t even seen him  _ move _ . 

He felt a hand around his throat again. He was lifted off his feet, yanked up into the air. He made a choking noise. His nose was violently throbbing. His blood was warm on his face and revolting on his tongue. He couldn’t even touch the ground with his toes. 

His vision was blurry when he opened his eyes. He blinked a couple of times, clearing away the involuntary tears. The grip the man had on his throat tightened as his green eyes turned  _ black _ . Nico kicked, hands clawing at the man’s wrist. 

He couldn’t fight off the panic the second time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So.... I argue that second chapters are harder to write than first ones lmao


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i rewrote this chapter like 97 times and still don't like it lmfao

Having to rely on a human after getting stabbed was _definitely not_ what Percy Jackson had pictured his Friday night would be like. He hadn’t wanted to get into that fight with Octavian in the first place— _in his own bar_. But he’d been caught off guard, and the drunk and rowdy vampires inside hadn’t given him room to talk his assailant down. They goaded him, his attacker, and circled around them, jeering, cheering, throwing blood and alcohol.

Percy barely managed to get outside to avoid the destruction of his bar without hurting anyone in their scrap. He didn’t want to accidentally harm his patrons, even if he wasn’t their biggest fan at the moment. Nor did he want to have to deal with repairs to his establishment at a later date. It was a pain, really, walking a fine line of keeping order and anonymity to the human neighbourhood that surrounded the vampire bar.

Octavian had riled up the vampires before he attacked Percy. Standing on top of a table and demanding attention, the younger vampire declared a duel. Percy had scoffed and intended to ignore him. Challenging other vampires to duels hadn’t been done in hundreds of years—that had gone out of fashion long before Octavian had been born. But Percy’s patrons, young and ravenous, liked the idea of dinner and a show.

“It’s nothing personal, Montes,” Octavian told him. “Really, it isn’t.” He pulled out his knife that had Percy rolling his eyes and throwing back a shot of blood-alcohol.

“It’s Jackson, now, actually.” Percy wanted to comment on how Octavian coming at him with _that kind of knife_ felt just a _little_ personal.

He was far older and stronger than Octavian—under _normal_ circumstances. The younger vampire’s sudden strength and speed had surprised Percy. He had no doubts that Octavian gorged himself on the blood of a few half-bloods to increase his strength and speed temporarily, giving him enough of a boost to be able to fight Percy on somewhat equal grounds.

The presence of a bystander distracted Percy, allowing Octavian to take his chance and drive his dagger into him. The presence was familiar but yet wholly unknown. Percy barely had the attention to smack Octavian’s hand to make him miss all his juicy little— _important_ —organs.

Blades like Octavian’s were quite common weapons for his kind, and Percy was no stranger to their effects. He even had a sword of his own made of the same metal. They hindered vampires’ regeneration speed significantly, slowing it to the pace of humans. It made vampire-killing easier, more efficient but a lot messier. Hunters used them often on lesser, unhinged vampires who acted very much like how human media portrayed them to be: monstrous, sun-fearing, unforgiving, _soulless_.

The lesser vampires, those who were not descended from any ancient blood, tended to roam the world by themselves. Lonely vampires often held less regard for human life, wandering by themselves and having no connections to anything. Those types were often the most dangerous because they had nothing to lose, and Percy hated encountering them because of how vicious, vile, and unafraid they tended to be.

Contrary to popular belief, vampires _were not_ solitary creatures.

And, surprisingly, Octavian was not one of those lesser vampires. But his attitude and volatile personality could have any coven-bound vampire fooled. He belonged to a coven; one Percy was familiar with. He made a mental note to have a little visit with the coven leader ( _without_ the company of his father). He would like a few words with their patriarch to see just _what the hell was up_.

Getting stabbed by Celestial Bronze was _not_ cool. Percy could have gone home after his fight with Octavian despite the possibility of the little runt lurking around. He could have left his mortal audience of exactly one person alone in the dark neighbourhood wondering how two men could disappear so soundlessly and quickly. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

And then he’d made a mistake, looking into the human’s eyes before slipping into his mind. He wasn’t sure why it felt like a mistake, looking into a pair of pretty standard brown human eyes—he’d done it thousands of times before. It was easier to establish a connection with those he wished to control, almost as if that old vampire saying about the eyes being the windows to the soul had some truth to it. Human and vampire eyes were very expressive, and you could tell a lot about a person by what they conveyed in their eyes.

As Nico—the _human_ —had rushed forwards to make sure Percy was okay, touching him without permission, the look in his eyes gave Percy pause. The kid’s dark brown eyes were unnaturally focused as he examined Percy’s pretty harmless wound. There was obvious concern in them, but his eyes were also alert, calculating, and perhaps a little angry. Percy had gotten _stabbed_ , after all.

Percy was also startled at how quickly the look of Nico’s eyes could shift. It was easy, seamless, damn near all-consuming. One moment, the human’s brown eyes were calm and caring, and the next hey were furious and insulted. They seemed to turn almost black when he saw Triton out on his balcony, as if his pupils dilated impossibly large, widening to consume all the brown of his irises.

For a human, Nico looked a little frightening and a little… _unsettling_. It was a familiar feeling; one Percy couldn’t _quite_ put his finger on. The boy had a ferocious and dangerous look in his eyes, his hands that had once been so gentle and cautious were clenched into fists so tight his hands trembled. His entire body tensed like he was ready to pounce, and if Percy looked close enough, he was sure he’d see Nico’s arm hair standing straight.

The atmosphere in the flat darkened immediately, causing Percy to stiffen in his seat with the unexplained feeling of impending doom and the unmistakable urge to flee the scene and fear for his life. But those feelings were preposterous. Nico was simply a human, _significantly_ weak to his and Triton’s strength. There was nothing to fear, and so Percy shrugged off that oddly familiar and slightly threatening atmosphere.

“Triton, _that’s enough_!” Percy shouted, rushing forwards as fast as his weakened body would allow him.

His brother had shaken off the same feelings that Percy had and had Nico dangling from his tight grasp, kicking helplessly and clutching the vampire’s wrist. Nico’s face quickly went from red to purple as Triton cut off his airways with a single hand, effortlessly holding him up in the air. His eyes were screwed shut, eyebrows drawn together so closely and so tightly the only thing that separated them was a thin scrunched patch of skin.

“This is the other human,” a female voice announced, startling Percy because he hadn’t seen or heard Annabeth come inside the flat.

She came down the corridor with a stumbling, clearly drunk man. Nico’s roommate.

He was shorter than Nico by a couple of inches. His blond hair was wild, knotted. He had bags under his eyes, dry lips, flushed cheeks. He looked around in drunken bewilderment, his blue eyes dull, unfocused, glassy, seeing nothing and comprehending nothing. Percy got the sense that he just wanted to go back to sleep, that even if he realised what was going on around him, he didn’t care. And Percy didn’t blame him, recalling the state he’d come home in.

“He’s drunk,” she said without care. “He’s no threat.” She led him to the couch, being as gentle as she should be with a human. It always amazed Percy how gentle she could be at times considering how much she punched him in the arm or the shoulder when he ‘didn’t act his age’. Sometimes it was hard enough that he found himself rubbing the spot of contact.

“The human attacked first.” Triton’s tone was calm and casual. Percy grit his teeth in annoyance.

“What the fuck else was he supposed to do?” Percy asked incredulously, noting absently the faintest scent of something burning and Annabeth wandering off silently into the kitchen. “This is the sixth floor and you were just _standing_ on his _balcony_.”

Triton shrugged. “I didn’t think Charon was going to let us in. I scaled the building. So what?”

Nico’s struggling was growing even more feeble, his body going slack where he hung from Triton’s grip. Percy reached out and weakly tried to pry his brother’s hand from the human’s neck.

“Let him go, dammit!” He growled. “You’ll kill him.” He tugged again on Triton’s arm. The second time was successful, his brother released the human, letting him drop to the floor like a sack of rotten potatoes.

Nico let out nasty, dry gasping sounds as his body forced him to suck in as much air as he could. His hands shook as he reached up to tenderly touch his throat. There was a perfect outline of Triton’s hand, red at first but darkening into an aching purple. Percy’s own neck throbbed in sympathy; he knew just how strong his brother was. He’d gotten into enough fights with him. 

Percy could see the anger filling Nico’s brown eyes that were now open and wild, but there was caution in them. He looked up vehemently at Triton, his gaze suggesting he was re-evaluating an attack plan. His first attempts had failed, after all. 

Triton, on the other hand, stood above him, staring down at Nico with a frown, as if he were looking at a dying and squirming bug. Wholly unconcerned and unthreatened by Nico’s black glare, as if he were sensing the thinly veiled fear in them that Percy was picking up on. Perhaps Triton _could_ see those undertones of trepidation in the human’s eyes and just didn’t care. 

“Gods, Triton. You can’t just _choke out humans_!” Percy growled and dropped to Nico’s side, able to admonish his brother now that he’d released him. Nico flinched away from him when he placed a hand on his neck. 

“Don’t mind my brother,” Percy told him. “He’s overprotective, and I have been gone for a day longer than I said I would be.” 

“ _Don’t mind him_?” Nico asked, his voice raspy and tone incredulous. He violently shrugged Percy off of him and staggered to his feet. “He damn near crushed my windpipe!” 

Triton rolled his eyes. “I did no such thing. If I wanted you dead, human, your limbs would be decorating this small room already.” 

Nico narrowed his eyes. “How fucking audacious. Threatening me in my own apartment.” 

“Wow,” Annabeth said from the kitchen, “he knows the word audacious.” 

“You are not helping, Annabeth,” Percy snapped. 

“What _are_ you doing here?” Triton asked, narrowing his eyes as he turned his attention to Percy. He crossed his arms over his chest and ignored Nico as easily as he had when the human was dangling from his grasp. “You were supposed to come back _last night_. Annabeth and I went to the bar and Ethan told us about a _fight_.” 

Percy rolled his eyes. Trust his older brother to make him feel like he _wasn’t_ over six hundred years old. “Don’t scold me like I’m some _child_ , Triton. I _did_ get into a fight. With Octavian who had a Celestial Bronze dagger. Nico, my _gracious host and nurse_ , brought me here to make sure I would not suffer any complications since I refused hospital treatment.” 

Triton glanced at Nico and rose an eyebrow. “This one? A nurse?” 

“Why didn’t you just drink from him?” Annabeth asked, a hint of annoyance in her tone as she came back into the living room. She was drying her hands with a paper towel. 

“ _Drink from me_?” Nico asked angrily. His dark eyes blazed with contempt as he looked at Annabeth. Had she been human, Nico’s height and dark look might have frightened her. Instead, she rolled her eyes and pocketed the paper towel. 

“Hush, human,” Triton said, glaring at him. But there was an unreadable sparkle in his teal eyes. He looked curiously at Percy, making eye contact with him and raising an eyebrow. Nico’s startled look at his sudden inability to speak nearly went unnoticed by Percy. 

Triton crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Percy. “You are lucky it’s only Annabeth and me. Proteus was close to coming, as well as Clarisse and Kym.” 

Percy shuddered, glad it was only Triton and Annabeth who came looking for him. He couldn’t imagine with _Clarisse_ might have done to Nico had her an at her like he did Triton. Though much younger than both Percy and Triton, she was a frightening sight when angered. It was better his patient brother came searching for him. 

“So, _why are you here_ , Percy?” Annabeth asked, mirroring Triton’s stance by crossing her arms over her chest as well. She was two hundred and fifty years younger than Percy but tended to act like his elder. He didn’t much mind most of the time. She had a level head and was very reliable in a pinch. He was glad she’d decided to stay with him and his family all those years go. It warmed his heart a little that she’d tagged along with Triton to come look for him. 

“And why didn’t you drink from this human?” 

The second time he’d been asked gave him pause and he looked at Nico—at the _human_. Why, indeed? This was hardly the first time Percy had been stabbed by Celestial Bronze. The metal greatly diminished vampires’ regeneration speed, but he was _still_ a vampire and lived off blood like any other. Blood would help him heal, make him feel better. He could have just drunk from Nico and went on his merry way. He’d done it plenty of times before. 

Despite that he had been hyperaware of Nico’s heart beating and pumping blood throughout his much more fragile—yet rather muscular—body, the thought of _biting him_ hadn’t crossed his mind. Not even when they were alone in the small confines of the lift. 

The thought of feeding on him felt… _wrong_. Sure, Percy did feel the need for blood, every muscle fibre in his body crying out for blood. His stomach was cramping, he could feel his bones scraping against his joints when he moved. His tongue felt like sandpaper in his mouth. He could smell Nico’s rushing blood as his panic was mounting due to his sudden _bizarre_ inability to speak. He could hear the wet contracting of Will’s heart as he slept on the couch. 

But none of his roused the desire the _bite_ Nico. None of it made him smack his lips in thought, lick his lips in hunger. Not without Nico’s permission, at least. Somehow, that suddenly felt very important to Percy. He couldn’t _disrespect_ Nico like that by just _taking_ his blood. He wanted his true permission, not his dubious consent brought on by Percy’s own manipulation. 

“Oh, for the love of the _gods_ ,” Triton snapped in near disgust. Percy glared at him. 

It was an odd feeling, Percy had to admit. He’d fed from plenty of humans—killed plenty of them by drinking their blood. Like any vampire, he loved the taste of blood, revelled in fresh, warm, flowing blood that carried the essence of human life. But he was _civilised_ and didn’t let that love consume him and turn him into a mindless, raving monster who had no self-control. 

He looked at Nico and then to his roommate. There was that lingering feeling of hunger, a muted desire to just _taste_ the human who’d given him aid, but nothing more. There was no _need_ for his blood, not even his roommate. He couldn’t take Will’s blood because he was Nico’s _friend_ , and Nico’s friends were—

“All holy hells,” Percy muttered in horror, staring wide eyed at Nico. “ _Ay, dioses_ …” 

-

Percy paced back and forth and had been doing so for the last hour and a half since he, Triton, and Annabeth made a quick escape from Nico’s flat. He knew he was muttering incoherent things under his breath, slipping between Spanish and English. Annabeth and Triton stood with their arms crossed over their chests. Clarisse, Thalia, Kymopoleia, and Grover looked unimpressed. Leo, Jason, and Hazel looked confused. 

“What is he going on about _this time_?” Thalia asked. Percy stopped moving and scoffed. 

“I’m having a _crisis_ , Thalia.” 

A wave of dizziness struck him when he stopped. His hand flew to where his stab wound was, forgotten in his pacing. He scowled at nothing. His thoughts jumped to the feeling of Nico’s fingers on his skin, but he quickly shook it from his memory. He’d left the human sleeping on the couch beside Will. What he would remember, Percy couldn’t say. 

There was a strong possibility he’d remember everything and putting him to sleep was simply for convenience. He tried to alter his memories, attempting to give him the false memory of Percy peacefully leaving after calling his brother and sister to take him home. But Nico’s mind was a stubborn one. Percy had figured that out quickly. 

It was rather intriguing, Nico’s stubbornness. Percy had never met anyone who could resist his manipulation. It had been alarming at first, then frustrating, and finally it just left him curious. His ability to control humans and vampires alike had only ever been rivalled by the strength of the Ancient Blood and the First Children, simply because they were older and more experienced. His own heritage made his manipulation absolute to younger and lesser vampires, as well as the weaker humans. 

And yet, he found himself having to reinforce things in Nico’s mind to keep him from checking into things he wouldn’t understand. His temperature was one of them. 

“So where is this lucky human?” Came the voice of his father, causing Percy to flinch in surprise. He didn’t think he’d be awake yet. “You children are always so loud when you’re excited. And, really, Percy, you are screaming your panic all the way to the Underworld.” 

Leo nudged Jason and snickered, “Underworld, he says.” Jason rolled his eyes. 

“Perseus has been panicking since he realised just _who_ this Nico boy is to him,” Triton said with an amused look. Percy turned his glare to him. Of course, Triton would find this amusing, he who had met his own mate thousands of years ago and left him high and dry. He wasn’t ‘ready’, he’d said. 

It made vampire family reunions awkward as hell. 

“And he is right to panic,” Poseidon said with an understanding nod. 

Poseidon looked to his younger son, a look of sympathy in his blue-green eyes. He was a tall, muscular man, towering over most of his coven, casting absolutely no doubts on who the patriarch was in the family. He didn’t look old, having the face of a man who couldn’t be any more than thirty-five, but it was his eyes that gave away his age. Thousands of years of living, of knowledge and wisdom. 

“Oh, please, Lord Poseidon,” Hazel said with a hint of amusement, “Percy’s just overreacting. Finding your mate is nothing to panic over. It’s a wonderful thing.”

Thalia snorted like the unmated woman she was.

Poseidon merely smiled at Hazel. He was genuine, as he rarely had any anger for his coven members. Percy had seen his father smile like that hundreds of times. It was the smile of an old man finding amusement in the naivety of young vampires. Even he got that smile from time to time. He’d seen _Triton_ get the smile before.

“Percy found his mate. Good for both of them. Congratulations,” Clarisse said, her tone clipped. “But are we just going to ignore that he was _attacked_?”

Percy frowned. He didn’t much care about the attack after it happened, and he didn’t much care about it now. Octavian was young and could be taken care of. He wasn’t a real threat and shouldn’t be worried about. After Percy got blood, he’d be fine. And while he wasn’t feeling the particular bloodlust in Nico’s flat with him and his roommate around, he was feeling it now.

“I have said it a thousand times, and I will say it again: only _I_ am allowed to stab my little brother with Celestial Bronze when he gets annoying,” Kymopoleia growled and Percy grimaced. Most of his Celestial Bronze injuries were from his sister. She could get rather violent. “I will have the dog’s head!”

“Sit, my son,” Poseidon said gently, his hands on Percy’s shoulder. He hadn’t seen him move, but his father was old and powerful, so it wasn’t surprising.

Percy was led to a chair in the parlour, his body unable to protest the promise of rest. He’d been standing for too long, moving too much. He couldn’t ignore the nausea anymore, the aching in his joints, the cramping in his stomach. His gums itched and ached as he fought off the instinct for his fangs to extend in his hunger.

“I can see why you’re having a crisis,” Thalia said with a sigh. “Or, rather, _crises_.” She smiled then, and she sounded like she was suppressing laughter when she next spoke. “Someone is trying to kill you _and_ you found your mate. Only _you_ could find yourself in a mess like this.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had SUCH a problem writing 3rd-person Percy. I didn't know how I wanted him to come across. And I still don't. Like, my dude is 639, and I wasn't sure if I wanted him to feel OLD or kinda laid back and just... /canon/ Percy, or some semblance of Canon Percy Personality. So like... Percy's 3rd-person POV is most likely gonna be BUMPY because idk what I'm doing with him lmao


	4. Chapter 4

“You know, not many people can _actually_ pull off a turtleneck,” Will said to Nico to placate some of the man’s irritation. They were sitting across from each other in the hospital canteen. Nico was on break and Will happened to be at the hospital at the same time.

“I don’t want to hear it.”

“Just saying.” Will shrugged and stabbed at his bland pasta as Nico aggressively took a bite out of his condiment-less sandwich.

It was a slow Thursday for both of them. Nico had done so much math today his brain was swimming in measurements, and he’d dealt with more aggravated patients than he’d cared to count. Some of their attitudes were rubbing off on him, he supposed. It was easy to mirror aggravation when you already had your own irritation wading under the surface.

“So, when are you gonna tell me about what happened on Saturday?” Will asked absently, bringing a forkful of pasta to his mouth. “Because _I_ don’t remember anything.”

“Nothing happened.” Nico shrugged and picked off a piece of crust from his sandwich. It was soft but unappealing, and Nico was beginning to wonder _why_ he’d chosen to get a plain sandwich. As bad as the hospital food was, there was still quite a variety he could choose from.

“I got into a fight,” he said, “it’s nothing to write home about.” He scowled down at his discarded crust. “It’s not like I haven’t been choked out before.”

It had been five days since Percy’s brother had damn near killed him. He got the vaguest sense that he perhaps shouldn’t be thinking about what had happened, but it was hard to ignore when the perfect hand-print-bruises were blue and green and still ached like crazy. It was hard to ignore when his voice had been raspy for two days, and the patients he checked in on asked him about it.

He still had to bloody wear a turtleneck to hide the marks from patients. How _could_ he not think about it? How the bastard who had been called Triton had lifted him off his feet with one hand so effortlessly? How could he _forget how fast he was_? He had fucking _fangs_.

The details had been blurry at first, giving Nico a headache whenever he tried to think about them Saturday evening and Sunday morning. Will, hungover and grouchy, had asked him about the ‘hickies’ on his neck before his own vision and mind cleared and he realised they were violent bruises and not kinky love bites. Nico couldn’t answer him at first.

But when the details slammed into him Sunday evening, he chose not to give Will the answers he wanted. Something about what happened had him hesitating in giving his best friend any information. He wasn’t supposed to _know_ , and Nico couldn’t think of where he’d even _gotten_ that notion. He just knew that every time he opened his mouth to tell Will, he found himself snapping it closed and shaking his head.

How irritating was that?

“What happened to that Perry guy?” Will asked, now pushing the last few bites of his pasta around on his paper plate.

Nico didn’t answer right away. What _had_ happened to him? He was supposed to stay for a couple of days so Nico could… tend to his wound, not that it was particularly serious. But he had left with Triton and the woman who’s name Nico didn’t catch—not that he’d even bothered to try to figure out who the hell she was. 

“Percy,” Nico corrected with a sigh. “He went home, I guess. The wound looked to have only gone through muscle, so I’m sure he’s fine. And if he’s not…” Nico shrugged helplessly despite the worry that suddenly clutched his heart.

What if Percy _wasn’t_ fine?

Nico shook that worry from his mind. It wasn’t his problem. He’d already stitched him up, offered him a place to stay until he felt better. It was Percy’s decision to leave and Nico could have hardly kept him there against his will.

“You’ll probably be seeing him later if things aren’t okay,” Will said.

With a groan, Nico whined, “Don’t even _say_ that!” He would very much _not_ want to see Percy at a later date because of his wound. Or because of any other injury. The thought of the man getting hurt sent a cold shaft of fear down Nico’s spine that he couldn’t explain or properly comprehend.

Will rolled his eyes and laughed. “Yeah, I guess it’d be awkward as hell for him to show up during one of your shifts.”

Nico mimicked a laugh.

-

Nico had a lot of thinking time on his commute home. A couple of hours of seemingly aimless wandering and uninterrupted dissociation as his body, on autopilot, took him to his and Will’s apartment. He preferred public transportation for that reason. He could afford a car and could afford to take care of it, but it was too much attention and too much responsibility to drive to and from work every day. Nico preferred his Daydream Time.

For the first time in a couple of days, he found himself thinking about Percy. And for the first time since Saturday, his thoughts didn’t rage, his fists didn’t clench in anger or irritation. Nor did his eyebrows turn up slightly in a worry that he couldn’t control for the man. This time, it was just… _thoughts_ , pure and simple, perhaps shadowed by curiosity.

There was something about Percy Jackson that had Nico tapping his chin with his index finger, narrowing his eyes, and humming in an odd suspicious tone. Something about the handsome man didn’t feel _right_ to Nico. He wasn’t sure if it was instinct that told him that or the actual evidence of what happened around Percy while Nico was there.

The way they had met was weird as hell. The fight he had with the blond guy who moved like a speeding car, all the snarling Nico heard coming from two different men Percy _knew_. And both men had been unbelievably and frighteningly fast. Both times had Nico’s fight-or-flight response triggered in a way that it never had been before.

He was no stranger to his fight-or-flight response. He’d been in plenty of fights and panic-inducing and life-threatening situations. Most of the times he chose to fight, but there were times where he found his body moving in the opposite direction of the danger. Those were few in comparison to all the times he’d chosen to swing. But each time, there was a confidence, a certainty that everything would be okay in the end, it _had_ to be.

The two men around Percy, however, had Nico feeling so very unsure of himself and the situation that he was actually _afraid_. How the hell could he fight a man who snarls and moves like a god damned train? How the hell did Triton get on his _balcony on the sixth floor_? The bastard had _FANGS_ for Christ’s sake!

Nico’s thoughts were interrupted when he felt a body slam into his left side. His balance was momentarily thrown off and he stumbled until he caught his footing again. He looked around in annoyance and ripped one of his earbuds out of his ear.

“Ah, I’m sorry,” a man said. The hairs on the back of Nico’s neck stood erect and he felt his body stiffening.

The man had a kind and apologetic smile. There was nothing threatening about his appearance other than perhaps his towering height, easily over six feet. And stocky from what Nico could see in his business suit. But his stance was casual, nonthreatening. His smile reached his blue-green eyes, a hint of crow’s feet at the ends of his eyes, barely noticeable smile lines on his face.

Nico felt uneasy anyway.

“It’s all good,” he murmured, nodded, and turned away from him. He tucked his loose earbud into the collar of his shirt and continued his walk home. He checked his pockets to make sure nothing had been taken. He kept nothing valuable in his backpack.

 _Put it out of your mind, Nico_ , a voice told him. He was having quite a bit of inner voices lately, he noted with grinding irritation. But it was right, the voice. There was no use getting stuck on the events of Friday and Saturday, they had passed and what’s done was done. There was no use dwelling.

Except that there _was_ use in dwelling. At least, that’s how he felt. Curiosity reared up inside of him, the strangeness of Percy Jackson, Triton, and the blond man who’d ultimately put Percy into Nico’s care. How _could_ he put it out of his mind? The fangs, the speed, the strength? And Percy’s fucking _temperature_? How the _hell_ could Nico, even five days later, put those absurdly wrong and baffling numbers out of his head?

 _A malfunction of the thermometer_ , that annoyingly rational voice said in his mind.

 _Bullshit_ , Nico called. He’d checked Percy’s temperature several times, then his own, and then Percy’s _once more_. The numbers that came back for him were consistent, and that knowledge would have to be pried from Nico’s cold, dead, and bloody hands.

Maybe Nico was being irrational. Maybe he was fixating on things that weren’t important, that weren’t as weird as they seemed. Maybe he was being a little paranoid. It _had_ been a few years since he’d given back-alley medical treatment. It had been a few years since he’d danced with shady people and was perhaps rusty in dealing with how strange things could get. He had to keep his mouth shut, forget everything for his safety and the safety of others—especially Will.

But his intuition told him it was something more. He’d been given little pieces, small individual pieces of a mosaic. As colourful and vivid as the pieces were, it was difficult and near impossible to decipher without the whole picture was or could be. It wasn’t his piece; he wasn’t the artist—he couldn’t put them together. There were a million different places the tiles could be placed.

“Good evening, Mister Nico,” the doorman greeted him cheerily. The bald hulk of a man flashed a brilliant smile at him. Nico forced himself to return it.

“Evening,” he said. The doorman knew his name, and yet Nico had never bothered to read his name tag. He squinted slightly at the letters. “Char-on?”

The doorman laughed. It was deep and full and genuine as he corrected him. “ _Care_ -on.”

“Like that soul-ferry guy from Greek Mythology?”

“Yes! My folks were _super_ into that shit.” He opened the door for a couple, but Nico stayed where he was by the door, not yet going inside. “But it wasn’t that strange of a name when I was a kid. At least, where I grew up.”

The question of where exactly the doorman grew up was on the tip of Nico’s tongue. Where the hell could you grow up with a name like _Charon_ and it _not_ be strange? Nico caught himself at the last second, finding himself taking a breath and opening his mouth to ask. Would it have been a rude question? He didn’t know. This was New York City. There were millions of people from hundreds of different places, either living in the city or just visiting for work or holiday. Charon wasn’t going to be the strangest name he’d come by.

Charon opened the door for him finally, gesturing for him to go inside. He took notice of Nico’s turtleneck and the joy on his face now seemed forced. “Well, I’m sure you’re tired from work. Have a good evening, Mister Nico.”

Nico stumbled out a ‘you too’ as he made his way inside the building. That encounter felt almost as strange as Percy’s tumultuous presence had been on the weekend. He and Will had been living in their apartment for two years now, and though Nico couldn’t remember if Charon had always been the doorman, he knew that was the first time since he’d actually noticed him that they’d had a back and forth conversation.

Will was doing the dishes when Nico opened the door to their apartment, headphones in and muttering things under his breath. Studying, Nico guessed. And just to mess with him, Nico walked behind him and slammed his hands down on his shoulders.

Will flailed, dropping the saucepan back into the soapy water and flinging his arms in Nico’s general direction. Curses flew out of his mouth rather than a natural and common screaming reaction. There was fear and anger in his blue eyes when he whipped around, holding up his soapy fists. But they cleared when he saw it was only Nico.

“Jesus _fuck_!” Will snapped, lowering his hands and putting one over his heart. “Don’t _do that_! I didn’t even see you come in, goddammit.”

Nico stumbled back into the stove, hunched over slightly as he bellowed out laughter. Even if Will didn’t have headphones in, Nico predicted he’d _still_ be able to scare him. He was never aware of his surroundings enough. Or was it that Nico was a professional at sneaking around? Perhaps both.

“I hate it when you just come out of the fucking shadows like that.” A scowl claimed Will’s features and he turned back around to the sink but not before pausing whatever he was listening to and taking out his earbuds.

“Man, you make it too easy.”

He really did. Nico worried about Will often. But a lot of the time, Nico couldn’t tell if he was just _too_ protective of his friend or if Will really did need to be more conscious and cautious. He supposed the majority of it was the distinct differences in their upbringing. Will grew up cushioned in Tennessee and Nico didn’t.

“So, what’s for dinner?” Nico asked as he emptied out his backpack. He’d stopped at a liquor store on the way home. He had gotten candy, beer, vodka, and a bag of yoghurt covered pretzels for Will’s study snack.

“Do you _want_ another visit from the fire department?” Will asked with his eyebrows raised. “I _cannot_ cook.”

Nico rolled his eyes. “I hope you realise the frozen dinners I have you buy have step-by-step instructions. I _know_ you can’t cook, but the frozen lasagne has baking instructions on the back of the box.”

“No, dude. We’ve talked about this. You ruined frozen lasagne for me. I can never go back.”

“I made home-made lasagne _once_!” Nico said. “Four years ago.”

“And a blessed day that was.” Will put the saucepan on the drying rack. “Oh, the glass door was finally replaced today. The repairman left the bill on the coffee table.”

On top of remembering everything from Saturday and having to live with the reminders of the events, Nico hadn’t been sleeping well because the sliding glass door had been broken—shattered completely, in fact. Sure, they were on the sixth floor, but _Triton_ had managed to get up. If he could do it, then surely others can as well. Nico was _not_ going to tolerate someone climbing to their apartment and waltzing right in from their balcony.

Not only were his dreams weird the last few nights, but he was also waking up at the slightest sounds that he normally didn’t wake up to. Their upstairs neighbours stomping around, the cats fighting in the alley far below them. The hooting of frustrated drivers and the screeching car tires from drivers braking too hard and too suddenly. All of it had Nico’s eyes snapping open while Will slept peacefully and soundly in his own room.

“We’re having the lasagne,” Nico said and set the oven as Will groaned.

Nico’s eyebrows rose a little at the total on the bill that was left for them. He could afford the repairs, thanks to his inheritance, but he couldn’t help but acknowledge it was a _little_ pricey. His father who he never met was still alive and had put aside a staggeringly large sum of money aside for Nico and his sister. But when Bianca and their mother died, his father gave him both accounts. Nico considered him dead because he’d never met him, and the man had never bothered to get in touch with Nico.

There had been a time in his late teens when he wanted nothing to do with his father’s money, the money from a man who’d never been in contact with him other than through a channel of foreign and domestic lawyers. And all those lawyers did was let him know his father had given him money, and his sister’s money was also given to him when he turned eighteen. He’d been given account numbers and papers to sign. Nico signed them only because he didn’t want to put the burden of university tuition on his very gracious foster parents he loved very much.

Six years later, Nico used the inheritance to pay rent for his and Will’s apartment and pretty much all other expenses not grocery related because Will insisted he had that one covered. He knew Will felt bad for not paying a portion of the rent. His mother was putting him through med school, and he had no job since he wanted to give school his undivided attention. Nico didn’t complain. Will paid for monthly groceries and public transit passes for the both of them.

“Nico, you got a package,” Will called suddenly from the front door.

“A package? I didn’t order anything.”

Stood at the door was a well-dressed man in a suit holding an unlabelled plastic bin with the top taped closed and a clipboard resting on the top.

“Mister di Angelo?” He asked, raising his eyebrows as his brown eyes raked over Nico’s body.

He wasn’t dressed in his scrubs anymore, as he had changed at the hospital. He wore a pair of black skinny jeans ripped at the knees, had a chain wallet still resting in his front pocket with the other end of the chain clipped to his belt loop. His black vans were worn and dirty, and his black turtleneck made him feel like he was boiling. But he liked wearing black and would suffer heatstroke at the expense of wearing it in the summer.

“He said you had to sign for it,” Will said and walked away.

“Do you need to see an ID?” Nico asked.

“That would be preferred… yes…” He was still busy taking in Nico’s appearance, and he didn’t look all that impressed.

“Who is this from?” Nico asked as he took his ID out of his wallet.

Nico showed him his ID so he could just read the name and see his picture, but he didn’t expect the man to examine it. Nor did he expect him to effortlessly juggle the box in one arm and take his ID with his other hand. He gaped at the card and looked between him and the small piece of plastic he held in his fingers.

“You… you look _just like him_!” The man said in awe, handing Nico back his ID and repositioning the box so he held it in both hands.

“Like who?”

“One of the men I’m employed under.”

“Is that who this is from?”

“No.” He said and nodded to the clipboard on top of the box. “Sign that, please. This is from Mister Percy Jackson. He left a note on the receipt for you. It’s under the copy you’re signing.”

Nico might have asked more questions under normal circumstances. Had the delivery man not said Percy’s name, Nico would have sent him away without signing and without delivering the package. He normally didn’t accept mysterious packages he never ordered—not that he ever got any. But the mention of Percy had him reaching out for the clipboard and signing on the signature line before he even realised what he was doing.

But it was too late. He was taking his copy of the receipt and exchanging the clipboard for the plastic box.

“It’s heavier than it looks,” the delivery man warned when they traded.

Thinking nothing of it, Nico reached out with one arm since he’d seen him hold it with one arm when he was looking at his ID. He gave an involuntary grunt when he felt the real weight of the box. It wasn’t that it was particularly heavy, but rather that the man was right.

Once the trade was made, the delivery man smiled, though it seemed a little forced. “Nice doing business with you, Mister di Angelo. I’m sure I’ll be seeing you again. Have a good evening.” He nodded and turned away from Nico’s apartment.

“Percy Jackson?” Will asked with a frown as Nico placed the box and the receipt on the dining table. “ _Alympos Enterprises_? What is that?”

Will opened the box as Nico grabbed the receipt again to read it. He snorted when he read it. It was an apology gift, guilty compensation from Percy. _Sorry about Saturday and my brother_ , one line read.

“Wine!” Will crowed as he reached into the box and pulled out what looked like a black bottle. But it was red wine in a green bottle. An _old_ green bottle.

“Extremely vintage,” Nico murmured. All the labels were handwritten in spidery letters. The paper pasted onto the bottles was old, yellow. The ink was faded. But the corks were fresh. “1803.”

 _We keep the original bottles_ , Percy wrote. _This case of wine was bottled a few days ago, but the barrel the wine is from dates back to 1803, and it is a favourite of mine. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do._

As Will gaped at the age, Nico handed him the note. He snorted then. “So, he’s as loaded as you.”

Nico chuckled a little. He wasn’t much of a wine drinker, but he’d go to tastings occasionally just to see if there was something he liked. There hardly ever was. He and Will were more beer drinkers than anything, but every once in awhile, they’d have a glass of wine and play UNO. He wasn’t sure when or why the tradition had started, but it was something he enjoyed.

“So… what happened on Saturday?”

“William, I swear to _god_ , if you ask me one more time, I’m punching you in the throat.”

-

Nico expected his head to ache and his neck to ache. Wine always made his head ache, and his neck was still terribly bruised. He was getting _real_ tired of having to wear the turtleneck. But when he cracked his eye open cautiously, waiting for the pounding and the throbbing, he frowned. Sure, there was a dull ache in his neck from his bruised skin, but it was nothing compared to how it had been the last few days since he’d gotten the marks.

But what was even more surprising and all together fucking _frightening_ was how considerably less angry his bruises looked. They had been a dark green and blueish-purple the night before, but now the green had turned to an ugly yellow and the purple had lost its blue tinge. It looked considerably more healed than it should have.

Nico spent twenty minutes he didn’t have examining his bruise. There was _no way_ it could have changed so quickly and so considerably in the last six hours since he’d gone to bed. But it had. And Nico couldn’t explain how or why. And he didn’t really want to.

“Dude!” Will called from his room. “You’re gonna be late!”

“Fuck off!” Nico did quick work of his hair and brushing his teeth.

He grabbed his backpack on the way out, unsure of what he would need it for. His wallet and keys and phones were in his jeans’ pockets, his important things. Maybe he’d stop at a market on the way home and grab some fruit. Will ate fruits like one snacked on chips. Nico had to scavenge for an apple or a peach most days because Will would have already inhaled damn near all of them.

“Your car, Mr di Angelo,” a man said, gently placing a hand on Nico’s backpack where the small of his back was.

Nico hadn’t been paying attention on his way down the lobby and was jarred from his thoughts at the contact. He stopped immediately and look ahead of him towards the black limousine parked at the curb, another man holding the door open for him. Someone was sitting in the back seat already.

“I don’t have a car,” Nico said, taking a step back. Or, rather, _trying_ to. Even though it was just an arm behind him, he felt as if he were trying to back further into a wall. The arm didn’t move and neither did he.

“No, Mr di Angelo,” the man touching him said calmly, soothingly, “the car is _here for you_.”

He removed his hands from his pockets. “I didn’t order a car.” He looked around, seeing that it wasn’t Charon standing beside the door behind them. It was another man, the one he usually saw in the morning. He seemed oblivious to the situation, opening the doors for the other people, acting as if Nico and the man standing beside him weren’t even there.

He felt a nudge on his back, and he had to step forward to avoid falling on his face. He heard and felt a pull on the canvas material of his backpack. Nico’s mind automatically jumped to the assumption that the man tightening his grip on his bag so that Nico couldn’t run away.

But he had nothing valuable in his bag. It was empty.

Nico shrugged it off, crouched, pivoted on his feet, and shoved the man. He didn’t move much despite the strength Nico shoved him with; he merely took a firm step back and looked at Nico with amusement.

He managed to get a few feet in his running pace before he found his body coming to a halt. It wasn’t his decision, and he knew that immediately. There was no reason he should be stopping. Nico tried to take a step forwards, but his body wouldn’t listen to him. He tried to lean forwards, but he stood stock-still.

“Really, you little punk? Running?”

Nico felt his heart jump to his throat at the sound of the familiar voice. Rage boiled inside of him, and quite suddenly, he was whipping around to face the man it had come from.

Triton rose his eyebrows, his green eyes widening a little. He let out an appreciative whistle. “My little brother was right. You are harder to control.” He then narrowed his eyes a little and smirked. “But you aren’t _impossible_ to control. Get in the car.”

“No,” Nico growled. “Like hell I’d get into the fucking car with you!”

“It was not a request, little mortal.” Triton nodded to the man holding Nico’s backpack. “It was a command. Get into the car, Nico di Angelo. We are going for a ride.” He ducked back into the car and slammed his door shut.

Before Nico could turn again and run, and much to his dismay and fury, his body moved towards the car. His backpack was handed to him, his arms reaching out to snatch it back before he even thought about it.

“Don’t worry, Mr di Angelo,” the man holding the door open for him smiled, “Mr Triton is not a danger to you.”

“Say that to the bruises on my neck.” Nico ducked inside and plopped heavily into the back seat, a hard glare on his face. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> just thought i'd let you all know that i'm awkward as hell in interacting with people. but even though i don't often respond to comments, i just want to let you know that i do read and appreciate every one i get :) thank you! xx


	5. Chapter 5

Nico di Angelo was constantly on Percy’s mind. Triton and Thalia teased that Percy was one step away from dreaming about the human with how much he thought about him. Hazel was trying to be helpful about Percy finding his mate, so was Annabeth, but neither of them really _got_ Percy’s trepidation. He might have messed something up. Nico might hate him and choose to reject him as Triton had done to his own mate thousands of years ago.

Some people were just that strong to turn down a mate. Either strong enough or selfish enough to pass up the opportunity for a strong and unbreakable bond with someone else. Soul mates between vampires were much more intense than it was between humans, if a life-long partnership between two humans could even be considered _soul mates_.

Even though Triton had rejected his own mate under the excuse that he ‘wasn’t ready’, Percy was aware of a bitterness in his brother for his choice. They had both watched Annabeth and Piper find each other, as well as Leo, Hazel, and Frank discovering each other in a very rare three-way bond. Percy had been a little jealous then but very supportive and happy for them. Annabeth and Leo had left their own covens to be a part of Poseidon’s to be with their mates.

Percy had sat beside Triton on the shore of a lake somewhere in upstate New York one night while the younger vampires were well into their mating and wedding preparations. He sat beside his brother and listened to the rare admittance of insecurities and doubts. Like all old-as-dirt vampires, Triton kept his feelings to himself and bore everything in silence and pushed on in life surrounded by the love and comfort of his family.

Triton had told him that night to not make the mistake he did, as if Triton’s decision to hold off on claiming his mate—who was _also_ a vampire—was some irreversible mistake that would haunt him for the rest of eternity. Percy wanted to laugh and tell him Thanatos would take him in a heartbeat, that he would gladly catch him if one day Triton decided to finally leap into his arms. But that wasn’t what Triton wanted to hear, so he kept it to himself and promised his brother he wouldn’t make his same mistake.

And now, Percy might not get to be the one to make the decision to reject his mate. Not that he even would. It might be Nico, and it might be because of Triton’s overprotectiveness. Which, Percy couldn’t really _blame_ his brother for caring about his safety. He still saw him as the messy little child who ran around his courtyard and traipsed through his woods in search for slugs. He knew Triton still thought of him as the little boy who always had some scrape or bruise from messing around with the other children whose parents worked for him in his castle.

But it was still frustrating to be treated like he needed to be protected when he was over six hundred years old, had combat skills taught to him _by Triton_ , and was a son of a very old and very powerful vampire. Percy was by no means weak and could take care of himself. But he understood where Triton was coming from. He felt that same way about the younger vampires in their coven even though they were all more than capable of taking care of themselves as well.

“Are you going to sit there and sulk for the rest of the human’s life?” Piper asked, jarring Percy from his thoughts. “And do you think it was a good idea to send _that_ wine off to him?” She looked up from her iPad to raise an eyebrow at him.

Percy found it curious how quickly she’d adapted to the twenty-first-century technology when she had all but forsaken _television_ in the 1950’s. She had very much agreed that it ‘rotted the brain’. But she’d quickly hopped at the opportunity to teach the Cherokee language online.

She didn’t grow up speaking it and hadn’t learnt it until she was in her thirties, but she’d caught onto the language as quickly and easily as any child of Aphrodite would have. It was a dying language now, being murdered off just as how most indigenous languages were—colonization and the ridiculous belief that the language of the colonisers was the only _right_ language. Piper wished to combat that, especially now that the language was in decline and has been for decades.

Percy sighed. “I chose to give him the best wine in our cellar currently.”

Piper rolled her eyes. “I understand your feelings completely, Percy. But _that_ wine has Poseidon’s blood in it.”

“Not enough to affect a mortal. It’s as harmless as the mercury in a piece of tuna.”

“Unless you’re pregnant.”

Percy’s mouth opened ready to tell her there was no worry because Nico wasn’t pregnant. He was male and vampires could hear fetal heartbeats. But a thought struck him as quickly as Piper’s words had come out of her mouth. One that felt odd to think about but slightly relieving and exciting.

The amount of vampire blood put into the casks to keep the wines from spoiling from bacteria or just… ageing badly was minuscule, not enough to change the taste or have any effects on humans. Vampires could hardly taste the blood in it and if they did… well, Percy had never met a vampire who complained about the taste of powerful and ancient blood.

“What if it does affect him?” Piper asked.

Good question, Percy thought. _Great question_.

What if Nico or his roommate were sensitive to Poseidon’s blood?

“And what would those effects look like, _Lord Perseus_?” Annabeth asked, mocking an unnecessary title the lesser vampires gave him. He rolled his eyes at the accent she’d added to his name.

 _Per-seh-oos_. Soft roll of the ‘r’ in his name. He hardly ever used his full first name anymore, it was something the elder vampires called him, even Perseus the Older.

Percy stared at Annabeth for a few seconds in silence. Sensitivity to Poseidon’s blood could mean a couple of things, either serious or something to ignore. It might be more telling if someone was sensitive to Frank’s blood because he was the youngest in the coven, having been turned only fifty years ago.

Annabeth rose her eyebrows. “I may be three hundred and seventy-two, but there are still things about being a vampire that I don’t know.” Piper hummed in agreement and put the iPad down.

Percy pursed his lips. He often forgot Annabeth was only three hundred; she always seemed older because of how level-headed and know-it-all she seemed. She was always prepared for things, and if something caught her off guard, she didn’t let it throw her off. To Percy, that had always felt as if she were the one who was hundreds of years older than him when it was actually the other way around.

Percy shrugged. “The effects could vary from person to person… depending on their ancestry.”

“Oh, yes, thank you, that just about answers my question.” Annabeth rolled her eyes. Piper laughed.

“I wasn’t _done_.” Percy snapped. “To be affected by the tiny amount of Poseidon’s blood that is diluted by the wine isn’t particularly significant. He is an old and powerful vampire—his blood is quite potent.”

“It is also hard to pin the effects,” one of Percy’s older brothers chimed in. Theseus was a tall man like the rest of Poseidon’s sons. Tall, powerful, and incredibly good looking.

Well, that’s how Percy and Triton saw it, anyway.

Theseus wasn’t close to being the oldest son in the family even though he was around twenty-three hundred years old. He was number _six_ in age. He also didn’t ‘look’ like a son of Poseidon, only because he didn’t have the black hair or green or blue eyes. Instead, his hair was brown and his eyes hazel. He took after his mother in those features, apparently.

“It can be a stimulant to some who are sensitive,” Theseus said, walking to a cask labelled ‘1902’ and put a flagon beneath the spout. They all raised their eyebrows at him. That particular cask wasn’t wine. The liquid that came out was a dark red and thicker than wine.

“Did Kym stab you again?” Percy asked in an amused tone.

The 1902 cask was a mixture of Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon’s blood, sealed into the barrel in 1902 for emergencies. Every one hundred years, the three most powerful vampires who were still awake distributed casks of their mixed blood to covens belonging to the Ancient Blood. It was a powerful mixture that was mostly used for wounds made by Celestial bronze even though such injuries could be healed with time or any other blood—human, vampire, even animal in minor cases.

“I think she punctured a kidney.”

“She stabbed through Percy’s lung last time,” Piper said with a snicker. Theseus laughed.

“At least it was not the heart.”

Percy followed the laughter, though it was a little nervous. He wasn’t sure if he was strong enough to survive Celestial bronze to the heart. His siblings all were, but that was because they were millennia old. And with Octavian running around wanting to kill him, Percy wasn’t foolish enough or arrogant enough to believe he’d make it to one thousand with smooth sailing.

Theseus took a drink of the blood, sighed contentedly, and looked back at Annabeth. “Sometimes the Ancient Blood’s ichor is misused as a drug for humans and younger vampires. But it is not often. Other effects of Poseidon’s blood could purely be beneficial—healing, temporary increased speed, and strength.”

“Or awakening of abilities if there is some vampire blood in their ancestry,” Percy added with a frown. “Assuming they were dormant.”

“As well as depending on how close in lineage they are to the vampire. Some half-bloods who are direct descendants can sometimes repress their abilities and can be surfaced by consuming any amount of our blood.” Theseus took another drink from his cup.

“But half-bloods are rare. What is the likelihood of Nico or his roommate being one or just simply being sensitive to your father’s blood?” Annabeth asked.

“Not very likely, honestly,” Percy said. “Half-bloods and sensitivity to vampire blood are less than one per cent of the known population. Being sensitive to our blood is actually more common than half-bloods.”

-

It had been at least forty years since Percy last opened a book. It was a History book Thalia had thrown at him while asking if it was accurate. The book had been about Medieval Spain and Thalia had been taking a niche History class at a community college.

“ _You’re old as dirt_ ,” she’d said, “ _tell me if this is right_.”

She could have gone to anyone in the house except for Leo, Hazel, Jason, Annabeth, and Frank. Which wasn’t a large exclusion list considering Poseidon’s coven was seventeen people, one of the largest covens amongst the Ancient Blood. But Percy had been born in Medieval Spain, and so he had a more intimate perspective of the times than his older siblings who’d been thousands of years old by then and centuries tended to pass by in the blink of an eye for them.

And now, nearly forty years later, Percy found himself inside the coven house library, hunched over some severely outdated medical book back from when people thought out-of-balance humours caused a sinus infection. He’d never had an interest in medicine before, at least for mortals. ‘Medicine’ for vampires was a little different. Blood was a cure-all. Sometimes moon water helped a broken heart. Percy didn’t know much about _that_ one, though, or how it even worked.

“You are not going to find anything useful in that old thing, my son,” Poseidon said as he entered the library. “Leeches are no longer in fashion.”

“Some of the remedies in here seem familiar,” Percy murmured. He sat up in his seat and stretched his arms up into the air. “My mother used to rub _hisopo_ on my bruises.”

“Did it ever heal them?” Poseidon asked curiously. He knew as much about medicine as Percy did, which wasn’t much.

“I don’t remember. It was quite a while ago.” Percy leafed through a few more pages before sighing.

“He’s a smart one, your mate,” Poseidon said quietly, sitting across from Percy at the table he’d been hunched over. “I ran into him today.”

“You mean you stalked him today. You deliberately woke up during sunlight hours and sought him out.” Percy’s eyebrows were raised and his eyes accusatory.

But he wasn’t upset that his father was checking in on a potential addition to _his_ coven. Percy understood it, and he had even done it with Leo and Annabeth when they’d proven to be possible soul mates for Hazel and Piper. There was a sense of protectiveness for his family and his fledgelings, who were essentially his children also.

It wasn’t just that, though, and Percy knew it. Everyone knew why Poseidon had gone to check in on Nico. Percy was Poseidon’s youngest son who still lived at home. Percy had a brother who was younger than him by about twenty years, but he had gone off to be with his mate who was a part of Celaeno’s coven, who were once known for being guards for the Ancient Blood’s major coven thousands of years ago.

Everyone knew Poseidon was particularly protective of Percy—even his siblings showed a sometimes-smothering sense of overprotectiveness. Kymopoleia once ripped the ear off of a handsy lesser vampire with her blunt teeth when he’d touched Percy’s inner thigh suggestively in a tavern when Percy was in his fifties. Proteus had finished him off by crushing his heart that was still in his chest when he tried to attack Percy for Kym biting off his ear. Every lesser vampire within the Castile region knew not to go after the younger Poseidon children after that. Percy had been both appreciative and annoyed.

And even now, six hundred years later, they were all still as protective as they had been the day they’d discovered Poseidon was Percy’s father. Even Percy’s own fledgelings felt a very strong sense of protectiveness and loyalty to him that often made him seem like he was the youngest addition. But he reciprocated that same protective rage when his siblings were rarely threatened or when Thalia, Jason, Hazel, Frank, or Piper were threatened—and it also extended out to their mates, Annabeth and Leo.

But still, Percy didn’t need his father checking in on Nico to see if he could and would potentially harm Percy. He couldn’t get a clear read on the mortal when he’d been laying on his couch being unnecessarily stitched up, but the fact that the boy had come to his aid without knowing anything about him said a lot.

“He has a strong mind,” Poseidon commented. “I tried, as you did, to redirect his thoughts away from the temperature situation. But the boy is incredibly stubborn. He will fit in here just fine. Triton is doing some last preliminary checks on him.”

“ _Triton_?” Percy screeched. “You sent _Triton_ , even after knowing what he _did_? I thought you would send Proteus or Rhodos. They’re less intimidating and less prone to violent outbursts when insulted.”

“Relax, Percy. Your brother is not going to harm him, nor is he going to send him running. Even now, after the events that transpired in his flat this past weekend and only knowing you for less than a day, his feelings are intense. He cannot stop thinking and worrying about you. Just as you cannot do for him.”

“I’m not worried that Triton is going to hurt him.”

“You are more worried about _Nico_ ’s reaction.”

“Yes,” Percy said and dropped his eyes down to the open book on the table. He was _very_ worried about Nico’s reaction.

If he felt threatened enough, Nico could decide to walk away from all of them without understanding or even _knowing_ what was there between him and Percy. He might decide he didn’t want to be a part of Percy’s world all on his own, uninfluenced by Triton’s rash treatment of him. Percy had seen it happen between a vampire and their human mate, and it had always been awful for both parties.

He saw the painful, longing, and regretful looks Triton and Thanatos gave each other when the other wasn’t looking. He’d only seen it for the six hundred years he’d been alive, but he knew it had been going on for thousands. And both of them were alive. He couldn’t imagine the pain of losing a mate, whether they were claimed or not.

“Do you want to know what would heighten your chances of securing the di Angelo boy?” Poseidon asked, breaking Percy from his thoughts he had no doubt he was listening to.

Percy looked up at his father hopefully. The man was over six thousand years old, had watched hundreds of vampires pair with their mates, even had his own mate. He had a wisdom Percy couldn’t fathom ever coming to know or experience. He almost always seemed to know what to say or what to do.

Percy expected him to say something that made him feel less anxious. He expected him to have some soothing words that would talk the bile in his stomach off the ledge. He expected his words to be _helpful_.

“Visiting Nico.”

Percy slumped back into his chair with a snort, one so violent it hurt his sinuses. But the pain was gone as soon as it had come thanks to vampire healing. “That’s real helpful, thank you, Father. I will just drop by his apartment later on in the evening when he gets home from work. Which, I do not even know _if_ he will be home this evening. I hear nurses tend to keep some odd working hours, and who is to say Nico’s aren’t any different? And who is to say he will even _have_ me. I disappeared on him and then bloody sent him some _wine_ as guilty compensation for Triton punching him in the face and bruising his neck. Oh, and let us not forget to consider the fact that Charon may not even let me in—”

Poseidon cut Percy off from his rant that had at some point had him speaking in rapid-fire Spanish rather than the English they usually engaged in these days. “Charon is here in the United States? Why would he not let you into a random building?”

“He is the doorman of Nico’s apartment building. I don’t know his hours either, so I cannot avoid him without jumping up to Nico’s balcony as Triton and Annabeth did. He will be _very_ unlikely to receive me if I followed in their footsteps.” Percy waved his hand dismissively.

“ _Charon_ is the _doorman_? Hades’ fledgeling Charon?”

“Yes, Father. How many times do Triton and I have to repeat ourselves? We’ve been saying that for days now. First to Proteus, then to Kym, then to Theseus, and now to you.” Percy narrowed his eyes. “Do you know any _other_ Charon?”

“None who are still alive. Has Charon’s presence not seemed odd to any of you? Or have you forgotten how reclusive Hades’ coven is? Why would Charon, an ancient and powerful vampire, be guarding the door of a random apartment building in Manhattan?”

“How should I know? All of you old vampires have strange tendencies.”

Poseidon sighed almost exasperatedly. “Perseus. You are almost six hundred and forty years old, and yet you still insist on not seeing the important things around you. My son, _please_ , for once, think about why us ‘old vampires’ with our ‘strange tendencies’ do things that do not make sense to the babes of our people.”

“Are you and Hades at odds again?” Percy asked after a few silent seconds with a flat voice and expression. “That time in the thirties and forties was _rough_. Especially for Triton and Hazel. So, if you are, and if that’s the reason why you’re pushing Charon’s motives, then we all need to know.”

Poseidon laughed. It was a hearty and deep laugh right from his stomach. His face lit up, blue-green eyes brightening vividly, and his incisors lengthened just a bit. Percy rolled his eyes when his father slapped the table and hunched forwards, still laughing.

“So, are you going to give me an answer? I need to know if I have to convince Nico and his roommate to leave the building.”

“No, Percy. Hades and I are not at odds, nor or he and Zeus as far as I know. And even if we were, I can’t imagine any reason why Charon would post himself as a _doorman_ , even if the apartment building is quite a nice one. He is more likely to _live_ in it.”

World War II had been a tough one for Zeus, Hades, and Poseidon. The most affected by the brothers’ squabble had been Triton and Thanatos, but their feelings had largely gone ignored because they weren’t together, technically or officially. It was hard for Percy to see the constant anxiety in Triton’s eyes whenever their father growled about Hades and his brood.

“But I believe his presence is still something we should look into.”

“I’ll just ask him, then.” Percy waved his hand dismissively.

“You will ask him when you go visit your mate tomorrow evening. I’ll have Rhodos look into his schedule that way you can catch him at the most opportune time. Perhaps whilst he is unwinding from work.”

Poseidon stood from his seat and smiled down at Percy. There had been a time when Percy was still human when he resented his father. It was shortly after Poseidon had claimed him as his son but then had ceased contact with him for two years while he smoothed things over with Amphitrite. The two were no stranger to Poseidon’s antics, but Amphitrite knew of Poseidon’s children the vast majority of the time. Percy had gone unknown and largely forgotten until he’d reached his twenties.

But he’d been accepted into the coven the moment Amphitrite laid eyes on him. She’d forgiven her husband’s undocumented infidelity and pulled Percy into the tightest hug he’d gotten since the day his mother left. Percy was not ashamed to admit he broke down in the woman’s arm.

Poseidon patted his shoulder as he walked by him. “Do not worry, Percy. Nico won’t reject you. The boy may be stubborn, but he is not a fool.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so... I previously had the chapters named after who the chapter was following, Nico or Percy. But this story is mainly from Nico's third-person perspective, and having the chapters named after who it was following was making me feel like I had to throw Percy's perspective in there when the story and I weren't ready for it. 
> 
> So, now, no chapter titles lmao because it was stressing me out and i don't wanna force percy's perspective

Nico’s head was swimming, but his thoughts were not as uproarious as he and Triton thought they would be. No. It was a shock, but he couldn’t say it was as surprising as it should have been. Even as Percy paced in front of him, which he started to do the moment Triton gave the bland and unconcerned “I already told him”, Nico wasn’t freaking out like everyone thought he would be.

He probably should be, he acknowledged calmly. But he wasn’t. It all made sense. The dots could be connected. He could finally see where those mosaic pieces fit and the picture they contributed to. He _knew_.

“Please, say something,” Percy said quietly, stopping in front of Nico on the other side of the coffee table. Nico sat on his couch; very glad Will was in class. Though, he was a little uncomfortable with Triton _manspreading_ beside him.

“Cat got your tongue?” Triton asked, a little amused, as he looked over at Nico. He hadn’t said a word since Triton explained _everything_.

The chuckle that escaped his lips showed no amusement because there was none. “Fuck you, dude.”

Triton clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes. “ _Dude_. I hate that word.”

“Boo fucking hoo.” Nico sneered. He recalled Percy’s own recoil at Nico calling him ‘dude’, but he wasn’t nearly as miffed as when Triton said something about it. He’d hardly spent any time with Percy, but he already knew he liked him a _hell of a lot better_ than he liked Triton.

 _Percy_ didn’t leave his neck bruised and his nose fucking throbbing. Percy had been polite.

“Can we… can we please get back to the subject at hand?” Percy asked, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“The subject at hand?” Nico asked, snapping his eyes to the handsome man standing across from him, tilting his head to the side, and pursing his lips a little. “In which the subject is your… your _vampirism_? Is that like some obscure medical condition? Do you need _help_ or something?”

Percy’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “It is not a medical condition… at least, I don’t think it can be classified as one. We don’t need help; we have everything under control.”

“More or less.” Triton shrugged. Percy glared at him.

 _Vampires_. Nico scoffed internally. He hated that it actually _made sense_ to him. The speed, the growling and snarling, Percy’s refusal to go to a hospital, the strength—the fucking _fangs_. Triton got up to the sixth fucking floor of his apartment building? Makes sense now that the whole vampire thing had been explained to him.

Nico couldn’t even get up to the third floor without being spotted and having the police called on him. He just couldn’t make it up there _period_. And he was pretty nimble when he had to be.

Of course, he was sceptical of Triton’s words. Because who the _fuck_ would believe someone who claimed to be a vampire? Nico wasn’t gullible or stupid. He would have died a long time ago if he was. Either that or God was on his side. But he’d put money on the first option.

He had thought Triton had been fucking with him until he showed him his retracting fangs, his changing eye colour that went from a cool green to a violent red. He saw Triton effortlessly bend _multiple_ stop signs in residential areas, and every one after Triton’s initial display had been of Nico’s choosing. He even had the _vampire_ tear a street sign into sixteenths.

He _believed_ it because there was no way he could deny the fangs, deny the strength, deny the speed that Triton later displayed. Nico couldn’t counter anything because everything had already been given to him and there was _nothing_ he could come up with that said Triton _wasn’t_ a vampire.

“Your wound,” Nico blurted suddenly, his eyes flickering up to Percy’s. The man visibly stiffened when he spoke. “Show it to me.”

“There is nothing there,” Triton said, waving his hand. “We heal at a phenomenal rate. All you will see now is smooth skin. Show him, Perseus.”

“ _Perseus_?” Nico asked incredulously. Looking between him and Percy, but his eyes stayed on Percy and he narrowed them. “How old _are_ you?”

Percy laughed nervously. “How rude. You should never ask a lady her age.” A smirk tugged at Nico’s lips and Triton rolled his eyes. But Percy complied to Nico’s demand. He stepped closer to him, stepping around the coffee table and lifting up the side of his shirt where his stab wound had been.

It was just as Triton had said. There was nothing there but smooth, unblemished skin. No thin white line from a scar, nor any little dots from the stitches Nico had given him. _Nothing_. It was as if Percy had never been stabbed at all.

Tentatively, he reached out and brushed his fingers over where the stab wound had been. It was the slightest of touches, merely the tips of Nico’s fingers making contact with Percy’s skin. But that slight touch made both of them hyperaware that _Nico_ had _touched_ him.

“See,” Triton said, “nothing there.”

Percy’s laugh wasn’t nervous so much as it was tight. “You’re being a dick, Triton.”

“There’s… there’s no discomfort?” Nico asked softly, ignoring Triton.

Nico didn’t know what to say, really. He felt a little stupid, asking him that, but it was out of his mouth before he could stop it. If there was nothing there, why would there be discomfort? But it was also just a random concern he felt. If Percy did have any discomfort, was there anything Nico could do or suggest to help ease it?

He felt even more stupid having those feelings. He didn’t _know_ Percy. This was barely the second time he was seeing him. Nico was still hung up on the fact that he wasn’t upset with Percy over what had happened last weekend. No one would blame him for being angry, but he had already justified why he _shouldn’t_ and _couldn’t_ be angry at him over his dickhead brother’s actions.

“You are not…” Percy started, his shoulders relaxing just a little from their tensed position. His voice pulled Nico out of his thoughts, and he wasn’t all too surprised to see a thoughtful look on Percy’s face now. “You aren’t afraid? You’re not freaking out?”

Nico felt even Triton’s gaze on him. He was aware that he felt so oddly calm, and he had a feeling neither Triton nor Percy had anything, in particular, to do with it. He did feel a little disorientated with all the information he’d been given, but he wasn’t _afraid_.

Weirded out? He wasn’t all too sure yet. Things were still fresh. Curious? Oh, _absolutely_. He knew he had questions; he could sense them swimming around in the maelstrom that was his brain right now. But he couldn’t pick any one out and couldn’t even coherently form any questions with his mouth any more than he could concisely think of them.

Things were still fresh, and he knew there was so much he wanted to know—he had that feeling somewhere—but nothing could formulate. Even if he _could_ think of questions, he wouldn’t even know where to start.

“Not at the moment,” Nico said truthfully. And that was true. He wasn’t afraid or weirded out _yet_. He had no doubt once he knew more— _once everything settled_ —he would be weirded out and he would be afraid.

They were fucking _vampires for fuck’s sake_!

Without thinking, Nico looked at Percy and blurted out, “Show me _your_ fangs.”

There was a panicked look on Percy’s face. He had a lot more feelings about the situation than Nico did, and Nico was the one who was just discovering that fucking vampires existed. Percy was the nervous one, the afraid one, and also, perhaps, the weirded out one.

Nico thought that was maybe a little dramatic.

Percy looked at Triton who responded with, “I have shown him mine already. It’s your turn.”

Nico squinted slightly. “Did I just ask the equivalent of asking you to show me your dick? Did Triton just _whip out his fangs_ earlier like an unsolicited dick pic?” 

“Unsolicited dick pic?” Triton asked, clear disgust in his voice. “Gods, you mortals…” Nico couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped his lips. He was actually in agreement with the jackass who choked him out.

Percy laughed, too, and for a second Nico felt as if he could sit there forever just listening to him laugh. It was strange how easily Nico’s thoughts were derailed by Percy. But he supposed it was perhaps a vampire thing, and the only reason why it didn’t work with him and Triton was because neither of them particularly liked each other. Nico had no bad thoughts or feelings about Percy.

The sigh Percy gave sounded a little tired. “No. Asking to see someone’s fangs isn’t… _intimate_. It is just not something we’re asked often—ever, actually.”

After a few seconds of silence and Nico thinking Percy wasn’t going to show him, the vampire opened his mouth with an uncertain expression. Nico had seen Triton’s fangs descend, but he’d watched out of detached horror as it happened. Now it was just fascination as he watched Percy’s teeth elongate.

When he first saw Percy smile, Nico had noted how his incisors had been a bit long and a little sharper than other people’s. And now that he thought about, Triton’s incisors were the same. It was a vampire thing, he supposed.

He’d seen it before with Triton but watching Percy’s teeth extend looked and felt different. Nico felt his breath hitch in his throat as he watched his teeth grow. There was nothing fancy about it. Nothing clicked out, no extra teeth dropping down behind or in front of the incisors. His teeth that were already there just simply… lengthened in his mouth, slowly extending farther out of his gums.

Percy’s nostrils flared ever so slightly, and his green eyes brightened into a more iridescent emerald. While his eyes had been striking and bright before, there was something altogether supernatural about them now. Nico had no doubt that Percy’s eyes would be glowing green in the dark.

“If you have not guessed it, yet, little mortal,” Triton began, leaning his body into the armrest and propping the side of his head onto his fist, “we are predators.”

“Thanks. I think it was the superior speed and strength that might have given it away,” Nico said. “Oh, and the teeth. Can’t forget those.”

-

Nico paced his apartment lobby, stalking back and forth in front of some waiting chairs while he waited for Will to _finally_ walk through the front doors. He needed to _go out_ and wanted company. He thought he was fine with all of the information Triton and Percy had left him with— _trusted him with_ —but now he needed some actual time to unwind and process everything he’d been given.

Sure, he had the wine Percy had sent him and Will, but he needed something stronger. The wine made him feel nice and warm and fuzzy and _great_ , actually, but he needed the swift punch to the fucking head that liquor was going to give him if he shot back three shots in succession. He’d eaten very little and knew it was a bad idea, but he needed the lethargic dizziness and lightheadedness alcohol was sure to give him.

Will’s laughter brought his attention to the lobby doors. He saw his roommate enter beside another man, just as blond as he was, and laughing just as hard, too. Only, Will’s cheeks were reddened slightly, and his shoulder-length hair was pushed behind his ears and away from his face. The other man’s blond hair was pulled back into a small ponytail and _his_ cheeks showed no extra colour.

“Nico!” Will’s blue eyes brightened happily when he spotted him in the lobby. “Why are you down here?” He picked up his pace to greet him.

“Well, I’ll see you around, Will,” the man said, flashing a dazzling smile at him, patting him on the shoulder before heading off to the elevators.

Nico stopped his pacing and watched the other man leave. Slight curiosity flared in him. He’d never seen that man around, but his apartment building housed easily two hundred people, so it was only natural that he didn’t recognise him. And it wasn’t so weird for Will to be talking to people _Nico_ didn’t know—he was so much more friendly and approachable than him.

“He just moved into the building,” Will said before Nico could ask anything. “He lives on our floor.”

A part of Nico thought the man seemed just a little _too_ friendly, being able to so casually pat Will’s shoulder with such an easy smile. Part of him distrusted the new man, but another part of him told him that was ridiculous. Will _was_ such an approachable person; it was understandable why smiles and physical contact were easy. Nico wasn’t an outgoing person like Will was, and so there was nothing odd about it.

But there was that small voice in the back of Nico’s head that whispered _Ulterior Motives_.

“I…” Nico said, frowning slightly when all the jittering energy that had previously been in his body dissipated. “I wanna go out and thought… you’d be home soon, so I thought I’d just wait till you got home to ask if you wanted to come?”

Will rose an eyebrow at how hard and awkward it was for Nico to get that out. Nico laughed awkwardly about it. He wouldn’t be surprised or upset is Will declined going out. He had classes tomorrow and no doubt a shit load of homework like he always had. Nico himself also had work in the morning, but that wasn’t going to stop him.

William was the more responsible roommate.

“I’ll take a pass. I have an eight A.M. class tomorrow.” He shook his head and readjusted his backpack on his shoulders. “See if Kayla will go out with you—”

Nico made a face. He didn’t mind Kayla, but the girl had basically dropped right into the middle of their lives one night a couple of months ago and had basically attached herself to Will. In his gut, Nico knew there was something a bit… _sketchy_ about her. He said nothing because he was aware of how protective he could be of Will and didn’t want to make a fuss out of nothing when it was most likely Kayla just having a crush on him.

“Kayla and I aren’t close like that,” Nico said dismissively. “It’s cool, though. I’ll just go alone.” Will opened his mouth to protest, but Nico continued, “I won’t stay out long, and I’ll make a promise now that I won’t be calling you from jail later tonight.”

“At least share your location with me,” Will said, “that way, in case I have to go and get you somewhere, I’ll know where you are.”

Nico snorted. He’d done it several times, sharing his location with Will, but he’d never had to be escorted back home in a drunken stupor and completely unable to take care of himself. If anything, it was Will who it was more likely to happen to. But he did it anyway, scrolling away through his phone and sharing his location with him roommate and friend, and his, for all intents and purposes, mother.

He couldn’t imagine actually being in a situation where he needed rescuing. Not as an adult, at least. There were several times when he was a teenager where he _was_ in such situations. But no one ever came to his aid and he had to figure out how to help himself. He didn’t think about those times often, but they came back every once in a while, to remind him of how many times he _really_ could have died.

“Going out, Mister Nico?” Charon asked as he opened the door for him. “It is a Friday.”

Nico stiffened at the voice breaking through his thoughts. He laughed a little. “Yeah. Not for long, though, I have work in the morning.”

Charon nodded, a thoughtful look on his face. “On a Saturday? Man, some jobs don’t know boundaries.”

“Dude, you’re a doorman; there’s one stationed out here basically twenty-four-seven.”

“Yeah, that’s true. But I don’t do weekends.” He flashed him a brilliant smile.

Nico had seen him smile before, but never one so wide and revealing. Charon’s teeth were perfectly straight. It wasn’t the straightness or whiteness of his teeth that had caught his attention, but rather the slightly sharpened and slightly longer incisors that reminded him a _lot_ of Percy’s and Triton’s.

His heart dropped to his stomach, but he found himself giving Charon an awkward smile and nervous chuckle. Everything inside of him was telling him _not_ to let his eyes linger on his teeth— _don’t let him know you see them_.

“Lucky you,” Nico said. “I’ll see you later.”

They nodded to each other, but something in Charon’s expression had changed. It was thoughtful again, but more focused than the last time. Nico wasn’t as subtle as he had thought he was.

He waited until he rounded the corner of the next block before he let his thoughts dwell on Percy and Triton and the whole vampire thing. If the teeth were a giveaway like he was believing they were, he was sure Charon, too, might be able to hear his thoughts. Triton had told Nico about some of their abilities.

“ _There are basic powers that every vampire has regardless of age and ancestry_ ,” he’d said. “ _Mind reading is one of them. So, keep a check on your thoughts whilst you are around us. We have a terrible habit of picking through business which is not ours_.”

Nico shuddered. They could read his thoughts. Percy very well could have known what was going through his head the entire time he was with him. Triton as well. He had no doubt they were quite adept at hiding the fact that they knew someone’s thoughts. They _had_ to be.

He felt a little paranoid and dumb the longer he was on his walk to the subway. Perhaps teeth weren’t a giveaway and he was just being ridiculous. Everyone’s teeth were different, and some people _did_ have teeth that looked like fangs but weren’t. He knew it was stupid to think he would start running into vampires left and right now that he knew only two.

There couldn’t be _that_ many in the world, and it was a naïve thought to think that he would run into many of them in _New York_. The damned place was _huge_ with millions of people, residents _and_ tourists. Meeting Percy had just been a case of wrong place right time, and then Triton’s existence and that other Annabeth girl had only come to him because of Percy. He couldn’t imagine running into entirely _new_ vampires not associated with them.

“Oh, I do hope you are not an alcoholic, Nico di Angelo,” a female said beside him and Nico nearly jumped three feet in the air.

He turned swiftly towards the voice with a vehement glare and a fist clenched at his side. He stepped out of the way for passersby and stood in an outside dining area. The woman who had spoken followed him with calculating eyes. _Familiar_ calculating eyes. They were just as green as Percy’s and Triton’s, though hers seemed a little more… _chaotic_.

Nico narrowed his eyes. “Are you related to Percy Jackson, by any chance?”

Her eyes brightened to an entirely different shade of green. Her dark eyebrows lifted in pleased surprise and her full lips curved into a smile. Something about her smile felt just a little _too_ mischievous to him, like he couldn’t trust the smile or the pleased surprise.

“Father was right,” she said, eyeing him up and down. “You are a smart one.”

“Thanks.”

“Yes, I am, by the way.” She tried to step closer to him, but he took a step back, sending the metal chair behind him scraping the concrete. “I am related to Percy. I am his sister, Kymopoleia.”

“Are you guys checking up on me or something? All I did was stitch Percy back together when I thought a stab wound could be really harmful to him.”

Her laugh was grating to his ears, causing him to flinch and want to flee. “Yes, we are checking up on you. _I_ have come because I care for my little brother very much, as do all of us—”

“Is this where you tell me if I hurt him, you’ll kill me? Because Triton already told me that, and I don’t know _why_ because Percy and I hardly know each other.”

“For now,” she said. “You hardly know each other _for now_. But such will not be the case in the time to come. You don’t need to know what that means right now—I can _hear_ all the little cogs turning in that handsome head of yours.”

Nico squinted at her. He wanted to ask her what she meant about… _everything_ , but he had the distinct feeling she wasn’t going to tell him anything. Why would she? It probably didn’t even mean anything to her.

“I have also come to give you a warning, Nico.” Her eyes darkened to a swampy green. Her eyebrows dropped and pulled together as a frown claimed her lips. “Percy is in danger right now. And though he is capable of taking care of himself, he is prone to reckless mistakes and impulsive actions. This danger extends to you as well. You _must_ be careful. As you walk these streets, Nico di Angelo, you cannot be in your head as you were when I approached you.”

“Okay, what is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Someone is trying to kill my brother. He can defend himself because he is powerful. But you? You are an easy target—you can be easily killed. At this moment, you stand to be a weakness for my brother.” Her face softened slightly, eyebrows twitching and the green in her eyes swirling with different shades of green as if someone kicked up the muck at the bottom of a lake. “I’ve come to formally inform you that you are under my family’s protection.”

Nico scoffed. More questions swirled in his head as fluidly as the greens swirled in Kymopoleia’s eyes. Percy was in danger? He was powerful but irresponsible? _He was under his family’s protection because he was weak_? He wasn’t offended by that, though. If _Percy_ was in danger and his family was worried about it, then that meant Nico stood absolutely no chance of ever being able to fight off whatever danger trickled down to him from Percy.

“So…” Nico began with a frown, “what you’re saying is… is that I need to be looked after like I’m some kind of child?”

Kymopoleia’s face lit up again and she made that annoying laugh. “You are like an infant to us, Nico. You are only twenty-four. I’m almost five thousand years old. We are going to be _babysitting_ you from now on until the threat to Percy is taken down.”

Nico didn’t know where to start, and he also felt like he was going to pass out. There was just _way too much_ information violently churning in his brain.

He made a sound of disgust and turned back towards the sidewalk. “I need a fucking drink.”


	7. Chapter 7

Percy slammed down his sixth shot glass with a gruff sigh and slight pinch to his face from the taste. His head was swimming with random things but not from the alcohol. Nico was almost forefront in his thoughts, but he wasn’t the only thing he had to worry about. Unfortunately.

It had been two weeks since he’d last seen the human, but he knew Kymopoleia and Proteus were keeping an eye on him, his roommate, and his building. Whether Nico knew they were there or not, no one could really say. It was surprising the things the young man picked up on. Theseus proposed that it could have been the wine Percy sent as guilt compensation for Triton’s behaviour when they first met.

Triton had other theories that he didn’t care to share with anyone.

“Another one, _milord_?” Grover asked teasingly, clearing away the shot glasses in front of Percy and wiping down the counter. Percy gave a small laugh.

Grover was a young vampire, barely coming up in his three-hundreds. He’d hired him to manage one of his taverns in England and they became good friends. So much so that when Grover came down what they believed to be cancer, Percy turned him.

“Three more,” Percy said dejectedly. He slumped forward into the bar, feeling the alcohol in his limbs, his vision pulsing and head spinning.

“You haven’t drunk like this for some time,” Grover commented as he grabbed a bottle of vodka and a blood bag. “Have some blood, too, so I don’t have to call your father or one of your brothers to come and get you.”

Percy waved his hand dismissively and leaned almost too far back on his stool. Grover shook his head as he poured two shots into a shaker with ice and filled the rest of the way with blood. It was rare that Percy drank this much during the day. He slept during daylight hours like most vampires, and he was only up when the sun was when he was either very busy or worrying.

“What is on your mind lately?” Grover asked as he shook the blood and vodka to mix them.

The bar wasn’t due to open for another three hours, so the chairs were still stacked on top of the tables and only the lights above the bar had been turned on. Grover lived in the loft above and was ready to make Percy or his family drinks whenever they stopped by before opening. Percy had come to initially check the books and to just hang out because his mind had been on overdrive all day.

Well, that had been the plan, anyway.

Once he’d gotten inside and smelled the sterile air left behind by the cleaning crew, he plopped down at a bar stool. Grover was already behind the counter pulling out bottles. He could see on Percy’s face that it had been a _long_ two weeks.

“I’ve met my mate,” Percy muttered with a frown etching into his feature. “I’ve met him and have already put him in danger. You are all in danger.”

Grover sighed. “What is it _this time_?”

Percy’s glare was halfhearted. His mood dropped a little more. Grover was right to ask that question. Percy had the habit of stumbling into dangerous situations that sometimes affected those around him. Well, the younger ones of his coven, anyway. No one every particularly minded, though, because they _all_ were rather powerful. And just as Percy had the tendency to find trouble, he also tended to get himself out of it without getting anyone he loved hurt. It was just a little inconvenient for a while, but everyone was used to it.

Grover did always appreciate the heads-up Percy gave.

Percy looked up at Grover where he stood behind the bar, pouring the mixed drink into a glass. There was a look of concentration on his face he poured the drink, his light brown eyes focused on the way the blood and ice splashed into the cup. He always felt like he had to make it _perfect_ for Percy. Especially when he was troubled.

“Apollo’s son, Octavian.” Percy ran his hand through his wavy black hair. “He is trying to kill me. And once he finds out that I’ve found mate… he’ll be an easy target.”

“Ah. He’s human then?”

“Yes.” Percy groaned and scrubbed his hand over his face. “A fierce one, but I’m not too sure how _cautious_ he would be in the dace of someone dangerous like Octavian. I got word from Chiron that the _pinche cucaracha_ has been slurping up half-bloods all down the East Coast.”

There was an angry look on Percy’s face. His eyes that were normally green were edging onto red, pupils dilating slightly. His lips were curled back a little, showing that his fangs had lengthened a bit. Percy had been a half-blood himself, and he always did what he could to help others out. He knew how hard and dangerous it was for them when they were unprotected and untrained.

“What is the council going to do about it?” Grover asked, worry in his voice.

Grover handed Percy the glass and he all but snatched it off the table and downed it in one go. Grover watched his with raised eyebrows and readied another glass.

“It is my and my family’s problem. Poseidon is trying to push for the others to intervene, but Zeus is dragging his feet like he always is. Hades has not been in contact since Poseidon and Chiron informed everyone. Apollo is in shamed silence. The others… well, they wait to hear Apollo’s opinion on what should be done with his son.”

“So, you have to take Octavian down yourself,” Grover said with a snort.

Percy simply nodded and looked down at the ice in his empty glass. It was not surprising, nor was it really infuriating. Everyone dealt with problems themselves, rarely ever calling for the Council to step in. Vampires formed covens for protection and socialization, but other than that, the species was rather solitary. The lesser vampires rarely interacted with others who were not of royal Council blood or their brood.

Octavian’s actions were concerning and disgusting. Kymopoleia, Thalia, and Triton were calling for a hunt for him, wishing to reach out to Artemis and her fledgelings for some reinforcements. Not that Artemis was likely to help them, but Thalia had a bit of pull with them.

The killing of half-bloods by taking their blood was a taboo practise. While technically human, half-bloods’ power and blood could enhance a vampire’s speed and strength. It was dangerous for them to live outside of the safe havens Chiron had established for them around the world. Camps, schools, boarding houses. Places of safety, numbers, and training for the children of vampire-human couplings.

Percy nodded. “He is out to kill _me_ , so it _is_ my problem.” He took the second drink Grover made for him, sipping on it this time. The dizziness was subsiding now that he had taken in some blood.

-

“When was the last time you used a blade?” Kymopoleia asked in a sneer. She pressed on Percy who had blocked her blow with his sword.

They sparred with mortal metal, as Percy’s siblings went at him hard and fast. Mortal metal was not deadly to them, and so they could stab Percy right through the heart no problem. It would hurt like the fires of Hades, but it wouldn’t kill him, nor would it sap his life force the way Celestial bronze would.

“A few months ago,” Percy grunted, pushing almost pitifully at her strength, “when Theseus called for a duel when I ate his cake in front of him.”

She let up and Percy shook out his arms and cracked his neck. They circled each other, moving slowly, watching each other with calculating gazes.

Percy used to hate sparring with his siblings because it had always felt so hopeless. He’d never be able to beat them because of their age. Strength and speed came with age. His brothers and sisters could all squash him like a bug and there was nothing he could do about it since they are all thousands of years older than him. They were some of the best fighters he’d ever known.

Now, though, Percy appreciated how hard they pushed him when they sparred. He’d had a knack for combat when he was human, as all half-bloods did, but Percy’s surpassed the other half-bloods due to who his father was. He was stronger than the other half-bloods around him—more powerful. He’d killed many lesser vampires who tried to drink from him, more than any other half-blood in his time.

But his siblings were on a whole other level of strength, speed, and skill than anyone he’d ever gone against. He’d taken down many vampires older than him, bested ancient ones in duels. Ares was still sour about the duel he lost to Percy when he was still _human_. His children all had a disdain for him because of it. But none of them would ever go after him for it, to avenge their embarrassed father. They knew better.

If only one of them had told Octavia what he would be getting himself into.

“You are slowing down on your left side,” Proteus called from where he sat on the outskirts of the courtyard.

Thalia, Jason, Leo, Hazel, Theseus, and Rhodos had all come out with him to watch Percy and Kymopoleia. Benthesikyme and Triton were watching over Nico and Will’s flat whilst Poseidon and Amphitrite moved through Council coven territories to appeal for their help in capturing Octavian.

Percy had a feeling he and Octavian would have a final meeting where _someone_ was going to die. And it sure as Hell was not going to be Percy.

Kymopoleia faked a right just as Percy was working on his focus of his left side. That focus broke as he went to parry her blade, but she arced it under his at the last second and slashed the left side of his ribs. He leapt away from her blade to keep it from hacking at his bones and clanged his sword into hers to knock it away from his body.

His fangs dropped down and he growled in pain, but the injury didn’t slow him down. His sister would go for the theoretical kill if he allowed her to.

He stuck to blocking until his gash healed, and once it was, he went on the offensive. He jabbed and slashed, missing everyone but kept up with the barrage of movement. Kymopoleia was incredibly fast, and she was able to block and parry his blows with ease. Percy wasn’t angered by it.

As soon as his blade touched hers with every attempt to hack at her, he shifted his feet, changed his movements, tactics, and shifted his thinking. He made sure to do it quickly, carefully, and intelligently. He had no illusions that he could beat his sister in sword-to-sword combat. She’d been practising the sword since she was a little girl, knowing _many_ techniques, most of which that had been forgotten to time by the humans. Percy only knew six hundred years’ worth. Kymopoleia had millennia.

But it was all good practise. Whatever opponents he had later on would pale in comparison to his sister. She strengthened his skills and techniques by simply being a brick wall for him. She forced him to think quickly, carefully, and intelligently. She forced him to be able to change his movements, tactics and thinking at a moment’s notice and without hesitation.

Had Percy been sparring Theseus or Benthesikyme, he’d have broken through their defence already and would have managed to get a good stab in. If it was a good day, he might even beat them. But he’d never get close with Kymopoleia, Proteus, or Triton. Not with solely a sword, at least.

“I think that is enough for today,” Proteus called. “Let Percy gather his strength again. You two have been going at it for the last three hours.”

Kymopoleia moved in swiftly, moving much too fast for Percy to follow, and she locked his hilt with hers. She disarmed him easily, and Percy managed to keep from getting himself hurt by letting her sword take his. Had he tried to hold and fight the disarming technique, Kymopoleia’s strength would have had his _shoulder_ dislocated.

“You did good,” she said with a grin as she watched Percy wipe the sweat off his forehead. “We will have to strengthen your stamina so your left side can keep up. Who knows how strong and fast Octavian is getting these days with how many half-bloods he is going through.”

Percy bent to pick up his sword. “That is something I don’t want to think about. If I do, it’ll just make me angry.” Kymopoleia made a sound of agreement in the back of her throat. He sighed and pushed back a few loose and damp locks of his hair. “You should train Thalia and Jason. It has been a while for them as well.”

When Percy reached Proteus where he sat, he handed him his sword. His eldest brother smiled up at him. “Octavian is young, and Apollo has no substantial warriors within his coven who can train the younger ones. No matter Octavian’s strength or speed, you can beat him in a fair duel.”

Percy snorted. “I highly doubt the little weasel with fight fairly.” He plopped down into the seat beside him and leaned down for the warm thermos of blood near Proteus’ feet.

“You are right. Perhaps you should spend some time with Luke and Hermes’ other children. No matter their age in comparison to us, they always have some tricks up their sleeve that even _we_ don’t see coming.”

“Luke is back in Hermes’ coven?”

Proteus shrugged. “You know how the boy is. His and Hermes’ relationship has always been a rather difficult one. But he cannot leave his siblings behind.” Percy hummed with a slight smile on his face.

Percy had known Luke since he was human. Luke was three hundred years older than he was, putting Luke _very_ close to one thousand years old. It amused Percy how Proteus could so easily and so casually call him a ‘boy’. But Proteus was older than Kymopoleia, and he _was_ Poseidon and Amphitrite’s firstborn.

“Your mate,” Proteus said, “what do you know of his skills?”

“He took a punch to face from Triton and didn’t break.”

Proteus laughed. But it was a curious thing. Even if he was fighting a human, Triton was more than likely to break _something_ inside of them. And they usually found him almost cripplingly intimidating. Nico, however, didn’t seem to find him intimidating in the least. He wasn’t frightened when he saw Triton standing on his balcony; he wasn’t scared when he’d been slammed into the wall by him.

He’d even managed to _tackle Triton_. Which was curiously commendable.

“Now that he knows about us, I think it would be wise to have him trained up a bit as well. Have him learn as much as his human mind and body will allow him to.” Proteus took the thermos when Percy handed it to him.

-

“Who is the lucky soul in this building who has earned your coven’s protection?” Charon asked, appearing beside Percy silently. His approach had quite literally been silent. One moment Percy was alone, and the next the ancient vampire was right beside him.

Percy jumped but only slightly. A small curse fell from his lips and he looked over at Charon. He wasn’t much taller than he was, but the older vampire was a lot more muscular. Percy looked almost like a twig standing beside him despite his own build. But that was to be expected. Hades’ coven members and children were often much bigger, stronger. More frightening.

There was a reason Hades and his brood had come to be known as the keepers of the Underworld to humans.

Percy fought off the instinct to growl at him for standing too close when he felt too vulnerable quite suddenly. “I could ask you the same thing. You have been here for a while as a doorman. Why?”

“There is someone of interest to us in this building as well.” Charon shrugged. “They were lost to us for a while, and now that we have found them again…”

Percy narrowed his eyes, taking note of Charon’s careful and unintrusive pronouns. He didn’t want Percy to know _who_ he was looking after. But whoever it was, he knew the person would have to be just as important to Charon and Hades’ coven as Nico was to his. He couldn’t begin to imagine _why_ this person was important, but they were important nonetheless and Percy felt it was his duty to inform Charon of Octavian.

“My family is watching the building,” Percy said, and he turned to give Charon eye contact to show he was serious. “And you should be, too. One of Apollo’s fledgelings have gone rogue and is attacking half-bloods for strength to kill me.”

“Ah, so you’re protecting a mortal from another little leech.” Though there was a slight smile on Charon’s face, his dark eyes glowed a slight gold. Just like Hazel’s did when she was upset. “I will let you know if I see anyone snooping around here who shouldn’t be. If they survive an encounter with me.”

Percy gave him an appreciative nod. They both had important people inside this building they wanted to keep safe. Their interests aligned, and so if Charon got to Octavian first because the bastard made the foolish mistake of thinking he could come here, Percy wasn’t going to be too upset.

But he did wonder who the ancient vampire was looking after. And if he was the only one of Hades’ coven who was in New York. He couldn’t ask his father because he and Amphitrite were away, and he couldn’t go around searching for them because they were all thousands of years older than him and much better at hiding.

It made him feel a little better, though. Because Charon was a reasonable man, and he hated rogue vampires as much as the next person. If Percy and his siblings said the right words, they would be able to get Charon on their side and to not only look after the building beyond keeping the safety of whatever mortal _he_ was looking after but to also come to their aid when Octavian finally showed his face.

“I will,” Charon said, obviously hearing Percy’s thoughts. “I will help if you need me to. I have always liked your family. And let Triton know none of us hold his trepidation against him. Thanatos still waits for him, and he will wait as long as he must.”

Percy snorted. “My brother is as stubborn as a god damned mule. He thinks he’s missed his chance. The only thing that will get _that_ through his thick head is if Thanatos himself shoved his tongue down his throat.”

Charon laughed. “Even _that_ might not be enough for your brother.” They both laughed. It was short lived though because everyone understood Triton’s fear and regret.

When Charon and Percy parted, looked back up to the fire escape for Nico’s flat. If he wanted, he could jump just high enough to grab onto the outside rail and then pull himself over. But he wasn’t sure how well-received his actions would be considering the _last time_. He’d come here to tell Nico more about the Octavian situation and to hopefully convince him to stay with Percy and his family for better protection, but he knew Nico would refuse. He hardly knew them.

Percy sighed and took a couple of the steps back, shoulders slumping and hands finding their way to his pockets. He couldn’t disturb Nico’s peace yet. He couldn’t disrupt his life any more than it had been already. He had a job, a life. As much as Percy wanted to bring him into their world and to show him all that he could and share everything with him, he didn’t want to overwhelm him and frighten him away.

Sure, Kymopoleia had said she’d already told Nico of the danger he could potentially be in, and that she and Percy’s other siblings would be keeping an eye on him. But none of them interacted with him, showed themselves to him. They only looked after him from afar, made sure no threats came his way. They weren’t _in his life_ like Percy so wanted to be.

Percy turned away from the fire escapes and torwards the mouth of the alley. He wasn’t going to force his way into Nico’s life yet. Not until he knew it was safe and he knew Nico was ready.


	8. Chapter 8

Triton narrowed his eyes as he watched Nico walk through his very dark flat. The mortal walked right past the living room where Triton stood stalk still so as not to be seen. It was dark enough that even his natural glowing eyes couldn’t be seen all that well, especially through Nico’s bleary and sleep-deprived vision. 

At least, that was how it was _supposed_ to be. 

“What the _fuck_ are you doing in my apartment? _Again_?” Nico asked, coming out of his kitchen and stopping dead in the middle of the walkway between the kitchen opening and the corridor opening. 

He squinted in the darkness, catching sight of Triton. He didn’t know what to say at first; it was rare that a mortal surprised him or had him stumbling for words. Triton felt as if he had been caught with his hand in the cookie jar and his mother was going to yell at him for it. It was strange how this Nico di Angelo tended to spark strange emotions inside of him. 

Triton didn’t much like it. It often infuriated him. 

There was something about Nico that irrationally rubbed him the wrong way. He looked at the human and he was already fighting off the urge to break him in half like a tree branch. Triton didn’t understand it at first, but the more he was around the boy, watching him throughout the day to make sure the little runt was safe, it began to dawn on him. 

Nico was looked _frighteningly_ familiar to him. His features. His mannerism. His _smile_. Triton had seen them all before, and it hurt him every time he saw them. 

Triton moved swiftly through the dark to the light switch. Without warning, he flicked it on and couldn’t help the smirk that came to his lips when Nico let out a small squeak and his free hand flew up to his eyes. 

“Jesus, fuck,” he said, rubbing his eyes as the sudden light momentarily blinded him. 

“How, in the name of the gods, did you see me?” Triton asked, staring at Nico almost incredulously. There was no way his weak mortal eyes should have been able to see Triton in the darkness. 

“What do you _mean_? I could see your outline, and then I was able to see your face after I focused.” Nico blinked several times before looking over at him. “You can’t just keep coming in as you please. How did you even get inside?” 

“I have been around long enough to have picked up on lock-picking techniques.” Triton kept his tone casual. It was easier for humans to be comfortable if he kept his tone casual rather than condescending—which seemed to be rather quite popular with vampires over the age of one hundred.

“What, did you turn into a whisp of fucking smoke and float through the keyhole or something?”

Triton sighed. His fist clenched involuntarily. There he went again, annoying Triton, infuriating him. It wasn’t the human’s fault, he supposed—they hadn’t exactly started on the best of the terms. It was only fair that Nico had a bit of disdain for him.

But it was not fair for Triton to have a dislike for him because of the way he looked. Because of _who_ he looked so similar to.

Brown eyes were an extremely common phenomenon, even amongst vampires. Nico’s own brown eyes should not have been significant in any way, but they were. They were so familiar, so similar. They were dark, unchanging, very much unlike the eyes of Poseidon’s or Aphrodite’s brood.

And his _smile_. There was nothing about _Nico’s_ smile that had Triton’s chest clenching and stomach rolling—it was only that it looked so bloody similar to Thanatos’. Both of them had faces that were not so welcoming. There was nothing warm about Nico’s and Thanatos’ resting faces, the way their eyebrows would slowly drift closer and closer until they were scrunched together and making them look angry. But their smiles changed the entire look of their faces.

Their smiles lit up their faces—lit up their dark eyes. That angry look melted from their features, their eyebrows relaxing once more. Their gaze either softened or brightened. They no longer looked unapproachable, scary.

Both Nico and Thanatos had the _exact same smile_. Their lips curved the same way; their cheeks rose the same way; their eyes crinkled the same way. The only thing Nico was missing from the smile was the fangs. His blunt human teeth were the only thing that reminded Triton that it wasn’t Thanatos’ smiling face he was looking at.

“I do not know a single vampire who can turn into a wisp of smoke. Though I do imagine it might be an interesting sensation if they could.” Triton smirked at Nico’s whispered ‘asshole’ under his breath.

“Okay. But _what the fuck are you doing in my apartment_?” Nico repeated, his fingers tightening slightly around the bottled water in his hand.

“You do swear quite a bit, don’t you?” Triton asked curiously.

“You do avoid the questions I ask quite a bit, don’t you?” Nico mocked, mimicking Triton’s slight general European accent almost perfectly.

Triton laughed quietly. “One of us is usually stationed inside of your flat. It is your housemate who usually comes out in the middle of the night. He never sees us. But even if he did, he is much easier to control. You, on the other hand…”

Humans were always a little harder to control once they knew they were dealing with vampires. Their minds were quicker to notice changes within their own conscious thinking or actions. They often became hyperaware of the presence of another mind inside of their head, of someone else commanding their thoughts.

But it was different for Poseidon and his coven. Their mind control didn’t work the same as other vampires. Poseidon and Aphrodite and their collective brood had different ways of taking control of mortals. Or even of other vampires. It was not typical of vampires being able to control other vampires, but Poseidon and Aphrodite—as well as their children—had the unique ability to be able to manipulate even those of the supernatural.

Triton should have been able to lull Nico into doing whatever he wanted him to do. He should have been able to softly nudge the mortal’s thoughts in the direction he wanted them to go, and it should have been getting easier and easier for Nico to fall under his or any of his siblings’ influence.

Nico was rather hardheaded, however. His mind was now all but rejecting the gentle humming Triton was projecting into his thoughts to ensnare his mind. There were always those briefest of moments where Nico did relax, his conscious mind fluttering at the remembrance of the songs Percy, Triton, _and_ Kymopoleia had tried to use on him, but then he jerked back to reality and subconsciously fought off their control and drowned out the humming.

There was only one clan who was capable of shaking off any type of control, be it the Sirens’ Song that Poseidon and his brood were known for, or the Charm Speak Aphrodite and her descendants utilised.

Nico narrowed his eyes. “… _Ri—ight_ … I’m going back to bed. Don’t let Will see you.”

Triton watched him leave, watched him walk back down the dark corridor. It was a curious thing the way the darkness seemed to swallow him up. As if it were welcoming him, reaching out towards the human’s body and then covering him up completely like it meant to keep him forever.

-

“You have quite a lot of nerve showing yourself to me,” Triton said, his voice seemingly casual. He trusted that Apollo could hear its hard edge.

“Your parents are away, and Proteus is busy. You were the first of your family that I have seen since I managed to build up this nerve.”

Apollo was a tall blond man with long hair and willowy limbs. He looked to only be in his early to mid-twenties, but his sky-blue eyes told a different age. He was older than Triton, but that thin body of his didn’t do much for him in the strength department. Triton may have been a thousand years younger, but he was much bigger and battled hardened. No vampire who was smaller than him and in their right mind would try to take him on. Even if they were older.

“It would have been safer for you had you sought out my brother.”

Apollo’s fingers clenched nervously. “I don’t have that kind of time.”

“We’re immortals,” Triton said coldly. “All we have is time.”

There was a time when Triton and Apollo got on really well. But then his son decided he wanted to kill Percy and Apollo went into hiding. Triton could hardly be expected to be welcoming towards him, even if he was one of the thirteen who sat on the Council.

“Octavian doesn’t follow my orders,” Apollo said, his words rushed. “He works on his own, as I’m sure you and your coven discovered yourselves. He left us months ago.”

Truth was not Triton’s expertise, especially with those older than him. Younger vampires, he could tell if they were lying to him. Older ones were a little trickier. Apollo even more so because truth was part of his realm of power and he could do with it whatever he wanted. He could force it out of people as if they were hexed, warp it in such a way so the truth could be seen as lies. But Triton had never known his cousin to _actually_ be a liar.

Triton sighed. “We warned you about that one. Don’t give him your blood, we’d said.”

“I know.”

“You are far too trusting of people, Apollo. Especially your children. He had words sweet enough to rot your teeth, and you still fell for his charms.” Triton’s tone wasn’t so hard anymore.

Apollo snorted and shook his head. “You know I have a sweet tooth.” Triton smiled.

“If you’ve come to tell me he works alone, does this mean you will not vouch for him should he be captured? No swooping in to save his heart from the stake?”

“I condemn him. He seeks power, strength, prestige. As if being in the coven of a Council member millennia-old wasn’t enough.” Apollo’s handsome face took on a rather unflattering expression in his sudden anger.

Triton hummed in acknowledgement. He couldn’t say that he didn’t understand Octavian’s desire for more—strength, power, status. It was a common thing for the younger vampire these days. It didn’t help that those things could be gained through drinking the blood of those more powerful than you.

Drinking the blood of Half-bloods was only a temporary boost, as their blood didn’t become part of the vampire like ancient blood did. Half-bloods were technically human, and human blood was had to be consumed regularly because it cycled through the body just as human food did: consumption, breakdown of the necessary nutrients the body needed, and then the rest that wasn’t used was flushed out.

Vampire blood, on the other hand, became a part of the individual. Like the increase of muscles for the human that works out regularly—only the consumed vampire blood didn’t leave the body after a time of inactivity.

“Help us search for him. Come out to the rest of the Council and condemn his actions publicly. No one lifts a finger because you’ve not shown your face.” Triton’s tone was hard again. Apollo’s silence was the reason for his parents’ campaign of compassion to other major covens. They needed more eyes on the lookout for Octavian than just their coven.

Apollo’s hesitation had Triton narrowing his eyes. “I will. I just need… I am working on securing a new fledgeling to account for Octavian’s betrayal. I need… I need a replacement, a purpose to keep my mind off the pain.”

Triton relaxed in pity. He had only a couple fledgelings, no direct children or people of interest. Only one of his fledgelings lived today, but they were hardly in contact—he’d never been part of Poseidon’s coven beyond his first century of education and protection. He’d left their nest to search for a purpose their family couldn’t seem to give him.

He couldn’t say he understood Apollo’s pain (mainly because the man tended to be a bit dramatic), but he understood what it was like to have a fledgeling leave.

“Once I have him under my wing and protection, I will speak of Octavian to the Council and the other ancient covens who just sit and watch.”

Triton watched as the older vampire brought the heel of his palm to his extended teeth. After hearing his teeth puncture his flesh, Triton mirrored his actions, biting into the fleshy bit of his palm.

They clasped hands; wounds pressed together—a promise.

“Move quickly,” Triton said. “I’m sure Octavian knows _we_ hunt _him_ now. Percy is likeable, but that doesn’t mean he has no enemies. The boy is shy of seven hundred years, that is more than enough time to make enemies who might aid Octavian.”

-

“I have figured it out,” Triton told Charon, catching up to the vampire before he could walk into Percy’s bar.

Triton and Charon were around the same age, give or take a few hundred years. When you were thousands of years old, a few centuries didn’t really mean anything. Passage of time, strength, power—the culmination of it was not as much of a substantial difference as it was to vampires thousands of years younger.

Triton and Charon could wrestle right there in front of the bar and the victory would be a close one to either of them.

“Good evening, Triton,” Charon said with a sign, stepping out of the way for a couple of younger lesser vampires heading to the bar as well. They regarded Triton and Charon briefly, just long enough to sense their age and power before scurrying inside.

“I know who you are here for.”

Charon rose an eyebrow. “Do you?” Charon’s amber eyes were challenging, his biceps tensed.

Triton knew he was being bold. He knew Charon might now see him as a threat despite all the years they had known each other. Despite what Triton meant to _his_ coven—to Thanatos. And he very well could be a threat if he wanted to be.

Triton looked around the dark street. Manhattan was a very populace city, but this little corner Percy had set up two hundred years ago had always had an air of caution about it to the humans. While they settled around him, built their homes, their tenement buildings, their slums, their factories—they always felt like something was just Not Right. And that was, in large part, due to vampires frequenting the area for Percy’s business.

“There are private rooms on the top floors. Let’s talk there.”

Charon nodded. “I’d like a drink first since you claim to know all of my secrets.” Charon’s tone was amused, but his smirk was tight.

He led him inside, flagging Grover and another barmaid down. The lesser vampires looked at them with disdain—jealousy over the fact that they could step into a room and have all other vampires bow at their feet. But the times for such reverence was long gone, and Triton and Charon no longer cared for such formalities.

Triton and Charon were led to a private room on the top floor. Grover set them up with drinks and the barmaid took their food orders.

Charon hummed. “Percy has always run his taverns the same way, hasn’t he? This place is not so much just a bar but an inn.”

“Sometimes,” Triton said. “There are rooms rented to some of the employees, or to vampires who are just travelling through and can’t afford to stay or don’t wish to stay, in a human hotel. Half-bloods even stay here from time to time.”

Percy had always had a generous soul. Even as a boy, he cared deeply for other people, and that was what made him one of Triton’s favourites. Many children lived in his castle—the children of his servants. He cared for them all financially, seeing to it they were educated and employed in other kitchens, smithies, manors, castles once they were old enough to handle themselves.

Of all the children who resided at his home, Percy had stood out—boisterous, caring, clever. The boy would disappear in the woods for hours and come back either full of brush, soaking wet or with a small wounded animal cradled carefully in his hands. Sometimes, he came back with all three. His mother would scold him, then pepper his little face with kisses and lead him to the kitchen.

“Percy told me you were looking after someone in the apartment building his mate lives in,” Triton said, leaning back into the booth seat and watching Charon’s movements.

They were mechanical as he brought his drink to his lips. His amber eyes glowed a light iridescent before he calmed again. He was sure the hulking man was trying his hardest not to shatter the glass in his hand.

“And what of it?”

“I know who it is, and I think I have figured out why.”

The glass made a sharp _thunk_ sound as Charon set it down. His nostrils flared. Triton felt a little insulted that Charon was so on guard about the human he was looking after. He would never stoop so low as to harm a protected human just for the hell of it.

“They are a Half-blood, and of interest to my family as well.”

“My coven will not share him with you, nor will we vie for his attentions.”

The sigh Triton made was involuntary, but it was deep and heavy and sorrowful. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly, and his eyes trailed down to where Charon’s fist was clenched on top of the table just as tight was his jaw was.

“You and your coven are at a disadvantage, I’m afraid. A severe one.” His voice was low. His tone was a little sad.

“Why would that be? All of you ocean breeds—none of you ever get to the point fast enough.”

Triton shrugged. “The ocean can be cryptic.”

Charon growled and bared his teeth. Triton put up his hand in a placating manner.

“Your coven is at a disadvantage because the boy you are looking after is Nico di Angelo. And he’s Percy’s mate.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmaooo i had a bit of writer's block, then forgot I was writing this story and decided to learn how to crochet, and then I had hella homework or an 8-week class I accidentally enrolled in. September and October were kind of wild. (And an 8-week class on Eastern European History with strict, unmoveable due dates kicked my ass lol.)
> 
> ANYWAY, this chapter was kind of hard to write because Triton is hella old and he's all over the place. But like I plan for him and Thanatos to have an interaction at SOME point, and what better way to build up a bit of angst (which I am, admittedly, not very good at writing) than showing that he actually thinks about him beyond feeling sorry that he might have missed his chance? 
> 
> i hope I can move the story along quicker now that I've gotten /this/ out of the way because I do have some Plans lmfao


	9. Chapter 9

Sometimes, Nico was a fucking idiot. Sometimes, he reacted badly. Sometimes, he didn’t use his brain. _Some-fucking-times_ , he couldn’t keep his fucking mouth shut when he _really_ fucking needed to.

He didn’t _intend_ to insult a big dude with two equally big friends. His reaction had taken only a second, coming out instantaneously in response to an irritating stimulus: a rough bump to his shoulder. He was already in an agitated mood and he was often quick to snap at inconveniences when he was in one. Like someone bumping shoulders with him when they, too, could have moved out of the way.

Nico had already been walking the edge of the curb when Discount Hulk had bumped into him, he and his friends spread across the width of the sidewalk like a brick wall on wheels. They had been holding up foot traffic walking like that and they didn’t seem to care.

Nico couldn’t be expected to do _all_ the work in minding people’s personal space.

So, he’d told the guy to walk where he was _fucking going_. He didn’t seem to like Nico’s attitude—hating his tone about as much as Nico hated being bumped into when he was already in a bad mood.

Of course, he’d tried to intimidate Nico with his size and friends. Nico called him out on his intimidation methods: puffing out his chest and standing a little taller so he towered over him. Nico called him a fridge and told him to fuck off. He’d been threatened by worse. He wasn’t afraid.

But he _was_ a little rusty on fighting more than one person. He’d knocked the original offender out easily enough—a good and swift punch to the fucking head that had his knuckles throbbing. The other two, though, flailed at him with sloppy punches that were actually a little difficult to avoid.

He got punched in the face, tackled to the ground, kicked. It was painful. It really was. But Nico fought through the pain and refused to give up. Not backing down was going to be the end of him one day.

Nico had always been a decent fighter, even before lessons in boxing and jiu-jitsu at community centres and from friends who were active in matches. He’d been kind of sporty when he wasn’t out being a delinquent. He could take pain, punches, broken bones. He would eventually reach a point where he didn’t feel anything at all, and that was usually what saw him through a victory.

They had him on the ground, one standing above him and kicking him wherever he could, and the other was on top of him, wailing on his face.

Nico started laughing. An involuntary tactic that threw people off their game. He didn’t mean to laugh, but the situation was almost always funny to him.

 _How_ did he get himself into these situations?

The punching and kicking stopped. Nico could feel his face warm and sticky with blood from his nose and mouth. He could feel his eye swelling.

His laughter died down when they started asking him questions. Why was he laughing? What was so funny? _How_ could he be laughing while getting his shit kicked in?

All questions he’d like answers to as well.

When his laughter stopped, Nico took the opportunity in their pausing and pushed the man off him with all the strength he could muster. He rolled away swiftly from a panicked kick. He didn’t feel the pain in his body from being kicked, but he knew it was there. It would all come slam back into him when his adrenaline died down.

He rolled to his knees and sprang to his feet. His movements were just as fast as they had been before they’d wailed on him. He moved like he was unfazed by the beating—like he wasn’t tired. And he wasn’t. He could keep going, and he would.

The other guy picked himself up from the floor, and the one who’d been kicking him tried to throw a punch. Nico blocked, oblivious to the pain of his fist hitting his forearm. Nico returned his punch as fast and as powerful as he could. And then he hit him again with his other fist.

The man looked dazed at first, eyes going instantly glassy, and when Nico hit him again, he went down.

Nico grinned at the other as he came at him for a tackle. He grabbed Nico around the waist and tried to lift him. Nico leant into him, grabbed _him_ by the waist, and swept his leg beneath his.

They both hit the ground hard, Nico only going along because the man was still latched onto him. Nico landed on his knees, the hard and uneven pavement in the alley they’d shuffled into to avoid police digging into his skin beneath the fabric of his jeans. The other guy landed on his hip.

Nico took the opportunity and kneed him in his chest. He ripped his arms from around his waist and threw him away from him. He didn’t go very far, but it didn’t matter to Nico because he followed him. It was _his_ turn to wail on him.

And boy, did he.

It took about four hits to knock him out, but Nico kept going until he was yanked off him.

“Triton was right. You are a vicious one.” The voice was male and unfamiliar, but the presence wasn’t. It had to be one of Percy’s brothers. Nico just didn’t know which one. “I’m Theseus. The better looking of Poseidon’s children.”

Despite his anger, Nico snorted with a bit of amusement.

“Percy isn’t going to like this. His face is bleeding.” A female voice. Not Annabeth’s or Kymopoleia’s.

The woman came into Nico’s view, such a clear frown on her girlish face. She wore her dark curly hair loose and long. Her eyes were a striking golden, almost glowing in the dim light of the alley. Her lips were full and thick; her dark and arched eyebrows drawn close together in her frown.

“I’m Hazel Levesque. Poseidon isn’t my father, but I am part of his coven. Your nose and eye are swelling. Let’s get you to your apartment and cleaned up.” She looked behind Nico to Theseus who was still holding him.

“I’ll clean up here, I guess,” another voice said, clearly male but sounding younger than Hazel and Theseus.

A boyish figure dropped down from the building and landed without much of a sound between two of the unconscious men. His hair was wild around his head, curly, but not as coiled as Hazel’s. He turned to them with amused brown eyes and an impish smile, showing off his sharper incisors.

“Leo Valdez, at your service. Just this once, though. I hate clean up.”

-

“And just _how_ did this happen?” Percy growled at one of his older brothers. Nico was sure the name was said, but he was too busy trying not to choke on the blood and mucus clot that travelled down his throat.

He was holding a quickly dampening cloth to his heavily bleeding nose, and with nowhere else to go and no other way to get rid of it, the blood that _should have_ fallen out of his nose was forced back into his throat. It took all his willpower not to gag at the disgusting taste.

He was sitting on the couch in his apartment with five vampires standing in front of him arguing with each other. He couldn’t help but marvel at how seamlessly the five of them weaved through multiple languages in their talking and still understood each other. It also always amazed him how easily he was able to see their attitudes despite not understanding the majority of what they were saying.

But he knew they were talking about him and the fight one of Percy’s siblings had to break up between him and three other men. Which, Nico felt wasn’t all that necessary. Sure, they had him surrounded, outnumbered, and _technically_ outmuscled. That didn’t stop him, though, nor did it ensure the three troglodytes’ victory. Nico had faced worse odds before.

He’d also gotten his shit rocked before, too. But that wasn’t the point.

“Here’s a fresh cloth,” Hazel said, walking to him with a damp hand towel in one hand and her other hand empty but extended. “Do you mind if I take a look? I was a combat nurse during World War II, and I can at _least_ tell you if it’s broken.”

Nico smirked under the cloth, resisting the urge to make his own flex and tell her he was a nurse _now_. He exchanged the cloths, and he was pleased to find the new one she was offering him was warm and damp with water. “I don’t think the bleeding’s stopped though. I don’t want to get blood everywhere.”

She laughed. He couldn’t help but think about how pretty it sounded. She had a beautiful smile, but it saddened him a bit. It reminded him of his sister’s. How easily her lips curled around her teeth, lighting up her entire face that otherwise looked disinterested.

“Don’t worry about the blood. It really isn’t too difficult to get out of clothing. Just tilt your head back. It’ll be unpleasant because you’ll swallow more blood and you humans don’t seem to like the taste all too much.” Her smile turned teasing and Nico couldn’t help a painful snort.

To distract himself from the discomfort of the blood trickling down the back of his throat and the throbbing pain of Hazel prodding at his sensitive and swollen nose, Nico tuned into Percy and his siblings’ conversation. Well, he listened to what he could understand, anyway.

“He didn’t seem to need much help if any at all,” Leo said.

“Yes. The punch to his face did not seem to stun him too much,” Theseus said, a thoughtful tone to his voice.

Nico felt like scoffing. Of course, the punch to his face didn’t stun him too much. He’d been hit harder in the nose by _children_. Sure, the punch to his nose brought tears to his eyes and had his nose bleeding quite profusely, but it wasn’t anything to be concerned about. He didn’t need Hazel checking in on his nose. They were just concerned because it was still bleeding ten minutes later.

Which, in all honesty, Nico knew was a _little_ concerning. But he’d had worse bloody noses that he’d had to go to the emergency room for. This one didn’t feel so bad. 

“Where did you learn to fight like that?” Theseus asked, a curious look in his hazel eyes. They were almost scrutinizing the way he looked at Nico; eyes raking up and down his body, bearing into his soul.

“I got beat up a lot in middle school,” Nico said. He shrugged and hunched forwards on his couch. He no longer felt a warm rush in his nose, and the throbbing had subsided into a dull ache. “You learn to defend yourself real quick when you constantly rub people the wrong way without even trying.”

Hazel huffed out an exasperated chuckle. “I know _exactly_ what you mean.”

Nico gently wiped at his nose that was no doubt swollen and bruising. He didn’t have a mirror to know if he wiped away all the blood or not, but he still dropped the damp cloth onto the coffee table. No more blood was trickling down the back of his throat.

“Good thing,” Percy’s other brother said, a thoughtful tone to his voice.

“That he rubs people the wrong way?” Leo asked, a chuckle following his question.

Percy’s brother rolled his _very_ green eyes. They seemed almost fake, like bad contacts over brown eyes. They were dark green like lake water, but still with an iridescent sheen to them. All their eyes had some abnormal aspect to them—how much they shone in just regular light. Even when they were darker colours.

Hazel snorted. “No, _cher_. That he can fight.”

Her slight accent was suddenly placeable. Nico had once had a History professor who was from southern Louisiana and accent was _much_ stronger than Hazel’s. She had called everyone “ _sha_ ” when she was answering a question very animatedly. She’d even spent half of the lecture one time talking about Cajun French when someone asked her where she’d learned her French.

There was something almost familiar feeling about Hazel. He’d only known her for less than thirty minutes, but she felt almost as close as Percy did. Like he actually knew her somehow. He felt comfortable with her. He didn’t mind the soft shoulder or knee touches.

She just felt very endearing to him for some reason. The same way his mom made him feel when she told him stories her grandmother had told her. She made him feel the same way his sister would make him feel when she held his hand to cross the street when he was a kid.

It made him sad, really. Old memories and old pain resurfaced. It pissed him off, frankly, because he could see himself snapping at Hazel for something beyond her control—for something she had absolutely nothing to do with. Nico didn’t want to be That Guy who freaked on people who had familiar presences that made him Sad.

“Proteus,” Percy said, sounding a little tired and breaking Nico from his thoughts, “I don’t think now is a good time to start—”

“When should I start, then?” Proteus asked, raising a thick black eyebrow. He looked like a very patient man, and Nico felt his question was genuine. “We do not know when Octavian will show his face again. Nor do we know how much _he knows_. You say Nico stepped between you two that night. He could very well return _here_.”

“First thing we have to figure out, though.” Theseus’ voice louder than Proteus’ and Percy’s, demanding attention and demanding he be taken seriously. “We have to see if Triton is right. If _Charon_ is right.”

“Charon? The _doorman_?” Nico asked incredulously. He wasn’t sure how many people were named Charon in the world, let alone all of New York. It was such an unusual name, and Nico felt in his gut that they were talking about the only Charon _he_ knew.

“We are talking about the same one, yes,” Proteus said, tone as unconcerned as his shrug.

Nico felt his sore eye twitch.

He’d known Percy and Triton for little over two months already. Their family had been following him around for weeks now. They were vampires. Percy was in trouble somehow. Nico had stopped a fight and stitched up a _vampire_. His _doorman_ was also a _fucking vampire_. And they _fucking knew him_.

“Uh…” Leo said, elongating the sound slowly and carefully. His eyebrows raised on his face as he made eye contact with Nico. “You okay? Your pupils just got _very_ wide. And your colour has gone—”

The lightbulb in the lamp beside Nico popped. Hazel flinched and snapped her eyes to him, too. The quiet that spread in the room was a sharp one. The five vampires suddenly felt dangerous to Nico—like a threat he couldn’t handle right now. One he didn’t _want_ to handle.

“They’re right,” Hazel said softly. “I’d know that feeling anywhere.”

Nico didn’t know what she meant, and he didn’t really care. He felt overwhelmed all of a sudden. Like all the information about vampires and the situation he was no in was finally catching up to him. He didn’t freak out at first when Triton told him everything. Percy had asked why he wasn’t freaking out and Nico couldn’t answer him.

But he didn’t feel like he was going to have a panic attack. He just felt anger and confusion welling up inside of him. _Why was_ all of this happening to him so suddenly? _Why him_? Of all the people in Manhattan, it was _he_ who stepped in to stop one of the strangest fights he’d ever seen. It was _he_ who insisted on caring for Percy when he thought there could be something seriously wrong. It was _he_ who had to be told about vampires.

 _Of fucking course, it had to be him_.

“Nico?” Percy asked, voice low and cautious. 

“Perce,” Theseus said, reaching out a hand to stop Percy from reaching out for Nico, “let him have his moment. He needs to. Remember how you felt when you realised everything?”

“I was alone then,” Percy practically hissed. “I only had Triton. It doesn’t have to be so isolating like that for him—”

“Percy,” Hazel interjected soothingly, “it’s going to be okay. _He’s_ going to be okay. He already accepted what we are, hasn’t he? He will just have to take _one_ more leap.”

Nico knew they were speaking in hushed tones that he wasn’t supposed to hear. They were talking in whispers as if Nico wasn’t sitting right in front of them. All the pain body was now just a muted ache. It was still there, he knew that, but he couldn’t really _feel_ it.

The sun was already beginning to set when they’d all reached his apartment. There was still light outside, but the sky and clouds were its usual dusk pinks, oranges, and purples. They’d turned the lights on in the living room and the kitchen. Those lights now began to flicker.

It started as a one-off thing. First the kitchen. Then the living room. And then the light in the corridor that they hadn’t flicked on, but it had decided it wanted to participate. Now all of them flickered prominently like a poltergeist in a bad horror film.

The anger and confusion Nico was feeling coiled tightly in his stomach. The flickering flights were beginning to piss him off. There was no reason for them to flicker. Will meticulously changed all their bulbs. Once one went out, he switched all of them. He’d changed them last month. They were still new, and Nico hardly ever used the lights when he didn’t absolutely need them.

Another one popped, sparking this time. Leo whistled appreciatively.

“He can do the same thing you can, Haze,” he said.

“Why now, do you think?” Hazel asked. They were still talking quietly, almost excluding Nico from their conversation. He didn’t blame them, really.

“The wine,” Proteus said with finality. “He’s drunk the wine. Poseidon’s blood is in that one, and he is old and powerful. Of course, it would awaken something inside of him.”

Proteus didn’t speak in hushed tones, and Nico could feel his eyes on him. He lifted his own to meet the vampire’s. He didn’t look concerned at all. His face didn’t reflect the others’ worried tones or vibes. It was curiosity he had in his dark green eyes. _Old_ green eyes.

Nico never understood the whole ‘the eyes are the window to the soul’ saying. He wasn’t sure what it meant—what people could tell just by staring into someone’s eyes. He supposed he might have made assumptions subconsciously when he looked people in the eye. He did believe strongly in trusting the vibes people gave off, but he’d never explicitly paid so much attention to people’s eyes like he did now.

He sensed an age to Proteus. Almost unfathomable, frightening, and sort of sad in some way that Nico couldn’t put his finger on. But he knew, just by looking into Proteus’ eyes, that the man knew _so much_ and had seen _many_ things in however long his life was. Millennia, he’d wager. He wasn’t sure _what_ it was that told him Proteus was scads older than all of them, but whatever it was, he wholeheartedly agreed with it.

Feeling _weird_ quite suddenly, Nico unclenched his fists. The lights stopped flickering and the aches in his body slammed back into them like they were making up for lost time. He felt his body sag with a strange exhaustion he’d never felt before. His entire being felt fatigued, more than just his body or his mind. He felt like his _soul_ felt tired, overextended— _overused_.

Percy’s eldest brother sighed through his nose. “Nico di Angelo, we have some very important things that need to be discussed.”

“With everyone!” Percy blurted before Proteus could even finish his last word, accent suddenly thick. “We need to discuss things with everyone present. Including Charon. He is involved as well. _Padre y Amphitrite. Tendrán que estar aquí también_ _._ ”

“What the hell are you guys talking about?” Nico snapped, eyebrows pulling together tightly in a scowl.

“There is more that has to be explained to you, Nico,” Percy said with a worried look on his face.

“Percy just wants everyone else with us when Proteus explains things to you because you make him nervous.” Leo sounded like he was holding back laughter. Hazel gave him a soft glare and Percy looked like he was a few seconds away from growling.

“ _I_ make _him_ nervous?” Nico asked. His eyes flickered to Percy. “I make you nervous? Why the hell would _I_ make you nervous? It should be _me_ who is nervous about _you_!”

Percy’s smile was sheepish and his shrug helpless. Nico thought it adorable. The man was over six hundred years old apparently, and Nico couldn’t help but see so much _youth_ in him. He didn’t seem older than Hazel or Leo (granted, he didn’t know _their_ ages). And he most _definitely_ didn’t feel as old or Proteus or Theseus.

He didn’t know their ages either but with names like theirs, Nico didn’t have to take much of a guess to know they were old.

Who the hell was going around naming their kid _Proteus_ these days? _Theseus_? _CHARON_?

But, then again, the naming practises of today tended to give Nico a splitting headache. Especially when people tried to justify the ridiculous name they gave their child. Nico didn’t really get, and he wasn’t sure that he wanted to.

He was more inclined to turn his head at a Theseus or Charon than he was to a Makayleigh.

“Yeah, you do,” Percy admitted. “You actually bloody terrify me. You have so much power in your hands Nico… so much of _me_ in your hands, you literally do not yet understand.”

Nico leant back into his couch and scrubbed his hands over his face despite the tenderness of his injuries. His anger and confusion felt long gone, but his exhaustion and aching remained. He felt like he needed to nap for _at least_ eight years. None of them were making any sense to him now.

“Dude,” Nico said, voice tightening at the end, “ _what the fuck is going on_?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heh. 
> 
> I didn't intend to get this chapter out so late lmao. I kept rewriting it because I wasn't liking how it was turning out, and then I had a shit load of school work because it was the end of the semester and I hardly have any sense of passing time. (procrastination is a part of my personality at this point lmfao)
> 
> But we're making progress, I promise! 
> 
> Also, my Spanish is high key rusty. I kinda want to write Percy speaking Old Castilian but like I can't even write any characters speaking with (kinda) old English patterns, and the Spanish that I *do* know is more or less Mexico Spanish. Idk lmao, I'll have to research Old Castilian lmfao. Leo speaking Spanish would probably be easier to write 
> 
> anyway
> 
> I hope you guys have safe and happy holidays!
> 
> (also, sorry if I offended anyone named Makayleigh. I legit thought of that name on the spot, and I've never heard or met someone with the name, and just because I've never known/heard someone with that name doesn't mean that someone doesn't have it. Anyway. Sorry.)


	10. Chapter 10

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year, everybody!

“This looks fucking gross,” Nico said with clear disgust. “But I don’t feel any pain.” Percy hovered around him, watching as the wound on Nico’s arm healed. 

He’d been taken to the ‘Coven House’ somewhere down in Montauk. The ‘house’ had once been an old seaside hospital that was mainly used to care for consumption patients in the Victorian era, according to Hazel. Most of the big windows face the sea, and Nico could see how it would have been used to care for tuberculosis patients. 

He still wasn’t sure how it happened _exactly_ , but he could only assume the older vampires worked to make him compliant. Somehow, he’d allowed Poseidon to make a slice in his forearm so he could collect about half a cup of his blood. Under any other circumstance, Nico would have fought to stay away from the dagger the man approached him with. 

And now, Nico sat in what looked like a home library and watched as the flesh on his arm was sealing itself together. The wound gradually got smaller, and he could hear the flesh mending. It was a wet squishy sound—like he was squeezing jelly in his hand. The sensation of the healing tickled a little, and the area of the laceration felt uncomfortably warm. 

“The healing is much faster for vampires,” Percy said softly, “and it’s painless for us as well.” 

Nico absolutely hated the situation he was in, but he couldn’t deny that it all intrigued him. He still wasn’t all too sure how he ended up in _this_ situation. This _whole_ situation. Ever since he’d met Percy, his world opened wide and fast. Not much had really been told to him except for the basics: vampires existed, they were strong, they were fast, and one might sooner or later target Nico. 

He knew there was a whole _world_ these people lived in. Their world has been existing for many millennia, right beside Nico’s. There were different rules for them, their lifespans, their limits, their biology. 

These people were not _human_. 

And now they suspected Nico might _be_ part of their world and not just an outsider looking in. He would have an existence beyond just being some measly human who stumbled across them like an idiot. 

Nico wanted to go home. He wanted to go home and sleep, and hopefully, when he woke up, he found that he’d just been dreaming the entire time. He was beginning to feel overwhelmed and tired in ways he didn’t know were possible. 

A small part of him wished he’d never stepped between Percy and that Octavian guy. A small part of him wished he’d just minded his own damn business like a good street-smart boy and kept walking. It was a rookie mistake that got him where he was now. A rookie mistake that he was baffled he’d made. 

What _idiot_ butted into a fight that was not only a _blur_ but was also one where a coward brought a _knife_?

Nico, that’s fucking who. 

But there was a _very_ big part of him that felt like he should be grateful he was a fucking idiot. He would never admit it out loud, but he thought about Percy way more than he should. The part of him that was glad he’d stepped in was mainly glad he met Percy, which Nico still found _very_ strange. 

He didn’t _know_ Percy. He knew barely anything about him—nothing other than he was a _vampire_ , was six hundred and thirty-nine years old, he was born in Spain, and he was _incredibly_ easy to talk to (and very good looking, Nico couldn’t help but admit). They were only acquaintances. 

With the realisation that he and Percy were only acquaintances, Nico frowned. 

_ Now you’re  _ really _being an idiot_ , Nico told himself. He knew nothing about Percy! Why should feel sad about that? This wasn’t some teeny romance novel for Christ’s sake! 

Nico didn’t believe in love at first sight. He didn’t believe in soul mates. He didn’t believe in getting together with someone just after a few weeks of knowing them. He’d always thought that notion was utterly fucking stupid. He couldn’t date someone he didn’t know. He _wouldn’t_. 

He’d tried casual dating. And the closest he’d _ever_ got was more like casual hook-ups. Sex was fine, but one-night stands lacked the substance—the depth—he wanted. It made him feel hollow inside, and he admired the people who could hook-up with others and then move on without wallowing. 

“Your suspicions were correct, Triton,” Poseidon said suddenly, staring down into a bowl that looked like it was used for religious rituals. 

Nico’s arm had completely healed by now. He felt no more warmth and no more discomfort. Not even a scar was left. He stared down at his arm, seeing perfectly unblemished skin where Percy’s father had cut into him. 

Freaky. He didn’t think he liked what their blood could do. 

“Holy shit,” Leo said. He leaned down towards the bowl and took an audible sniff. “You’ve got a baby brother, Haze.” 

Triton’s expression confused Nico. They didn’t get along all that well, but Nico didn’t _hate_ him (not anymore, at least). The expression on Triton’s face was anguish. He stared down into the bowl and he sucked in a pained breath. His eyes that were normally green were now black. His eyebrows were scrunched together, and he looked at Nico with utter pain in his eyes. 

He didn’t say anything as he left. The room fell silent as everyone watched Triton leave the library. Even his footsteps were silent. The way he and the way everyone watched him leave told Nico he should be concerned. 

Triton left at a human’s walking pace. 

Percy left Nico’s side to look in the bowl. Poseidon was sitting at a table not too far from the armchair Nico was sitting on. His own eyes were black as well and he wore a grim expression. He didn’t look up when Percy reached him. He didn’t look up when Percy lifted the bowl from the table and smelled it more elegantly than Leo did. 

Percy’s eyes brightened the same way they did when he stood in the dark. Even from where Nico sat, he could see the colour of his irises swirling like Kymopoleia’s did. His eyebrows scrunched together slightly, and he smelled inside the bowl again as if he didn’t believe it the first time. 

“Leo is right,” he said softly. “Nico is a half-blood.” 

Nico felt like he’d heard that term before. It sounded familiar to him and something inside of him made him feel like he wanted Leo to be wrong. He didn’t even know what it meant, but he wanted them to be wrong. 

What the _hell_ was a half-blood, though? The more he thought about it, the antsier he got. Like he wasn’t supposed to _know_ what it was; he wasn’t supposed to have _heard_ Percy say it out loud. 

Nico shivered.

“The cat is out of the bag,” Theseus said. He’d been leaning against a bookshelf since they’d entered the room. “Names do, in fact, have power.” 

“But he didn’t say his last name,” Frank pointed out, a look of confusion on his face. He was standing between Leo and Hazel, and the three of them were all standing rather close to each other. They seemed comfortably crowded.

Nico didn’t know what it was about Frank, but he got the sense the man wasn’t _nearly_ as well versed in the world he lived in. There was something that felt so naïve about him—clumsy, bright-eyed, awkward. He didn’t feel as knowledgeable as the others did. 

“He is the only Nico here, and the only Nico Percy would be thinking of.” Theseus pushed off the bookshelf and practically sauntered to where Percy stood with the bowl. He reached inside the bowl and pulled out his red-tipped finger. 

He looked at Nico as he licked the blood from his finger. His pupils dilated and his nostrils flared slightly. Raising an eyebrow, he grunted and smacked his lips for better taste. “This is Nico’s and Poseidon’s blood mixed together perfectly. No separate tastes. Percy spoke the truth into existence. Nico has been named a half-blood.” 

“You are confusing the boy,” Poseidon said with a slight sigh. 

“Which one?” Theseus asked. 

“You know which one.” 

Theseus snorted. “It isn’t my place to tell him what any of this means. You have got the wrong son.” 

-

It felt weird being in Percy’s room. Nico felt a strange knot in the pit of his stomach, but he wasn’t all that uncomfortable. It was something innate, something familiar to the way he’d felt when Octavian had growled at him and when Triton had flashed his fangs at him. 

_ I shouldn’t be here _ , his body seemed to be telling him. The tips of his fingers tingled slightly, and he found he couldn’t stand still. His eyes raked over Percy’s room as he absent-mindedly took note of all his possible exits. All the possible things he could use as weapons to fend Percy off if he needed to. 

“I know what you’re feeling,” Percy said calmly. Soothingly. _Empathetically_. “I know exactly the sudden danger you’re feeling.” 

“Yeah, I’m still going to need an explanation.” Nico shifted his weight from foot to foot. 

He didn’t stand casually, and for a second, Nico seemed to forget how to even do it. He stood with his legs shoulder-width apart, and though his arms seemed to be just laying at his sides, his biceps were tense, and his fingers twitched every so often. He was ready to raise them if he needed to. 

He was ready to swing if he had to. 

“You’re a half-blood, Nico,” Percy said. “The term is something of a misnomer, though. You aren’t half-human and half-vampire. You are _human_ but more.” 

“I’m human. But more. Makes total sense.” 

The smile that came to Percy’s face was fond. Even the roll of his eyes felt a little affectionate. 

Nico frowned. There he went again, letting Percy’s attractive face distract him. Letting all those god damned romance novels swirl inside of his head like he was some romance sap. He felt dumb for allowing certain lines and themes from many of the books he’d read pop into his head. 

He was _really_ annoyed when one of Bella Swan’s monologues about how cute Edward’s ass was came to the forefront of his mind. 

Okay. Bella never mentioned Edward’s ass in the books, but Nico was sure she thought about it a lot. The audience was just cheated out of the possible soliloquies she’d dedicate to his ass because the author was a _coward_. At least, _Nico_ felt cheated out for what could have been.

“Half-bloods inherit certain vampire traits from their vampire parents depending on how strong and old their parent is. But all half-bloods are stronger and faster than regular humans,” Percy explained. “Considering your own father, you are significantly stronger and faster than humans—you’re perhaps stronger and faster than even other half-bloods.” 

“My own father?” Nico asked, bitterness clear in his voice. He even scoffed and looked away from Percy. 

Nico had _many_ feelings about his father, and none of them were good or flattering. He was twenty-four and had _never_ met him. His mother never spoke of him, not even when they were struggling financially and lived in a one-bedroom apartment where all three of them shared a bed. 

She said nothing of him when Nico and Bianca wore layers of clothes because their landlord was too cheap to adequately warm up the building. She said nothing of him when she went without food so Nico and Bianca didn’t have to. She said nothing of him when she picked up extra jobs and shifts to scrape money together for rent every couple of months because money got tight. 

Nico didn’t know what to say to the fancy lawyer who’d spent months hunting him down to tell him his father had a shit load of money put away for him and his sister. The man was alive and well, but he hadn’t wanted anything to do with Nico and Bianca—or his mom. 

And out of the generosity of his fucking heart, he wished for Nico to have Bianca’s share because, well, she was dead and had no use for it. 

_ How nice and thoughtful _ , Nico thought angrily. 

“He is very powerful, and he has many enemies, Nico.” Percy’s voice was soft and almost soothing. Nico scoffed. 

“I didn’t care much for Poseidon when I first learned either,” Percy told him. “My mother… she was a kitchen maid who was sweet-talked into marriage by the wrong guy when I was twelve. He was abusive, and when my mother found a true love outside of her marriage to _Gabriel_ , she was sent to a convent where she died in childbirth.”

Some time while he was talking, Percy’s usual subtle Spanish accent became more noticeable. He looked out his window that faced the sea, and Nico realised he could actually smell the sea air despite the closed window. 

Percy’s hands made fists. “Gabriel took us from the castle as soon as he and my mother were wed. He abandoned me, despite my mother’s screams and pleas, on a road somewhere between Salamanca and Seville—far from the castle where I had been born. It took near a fortnight for me to stumble my way into the village where Triton was lord. My struggle to survive on my own awakened my half-blood abilities. Triton sensed the difference in me immediately and performed the same blood infusion Poseidon did with you to see if he could find my father.

“I met Poseidon finally when I was the age you are now. By then, I had received training to survive as a half-blood; I had discovered my mother’s unfair fair; I’d fought and killed many vampires who wished to glut themselves on my blood; I had found and killed Gabriel for his disgusting treatment of my mother. I was not a happy man and was wasting away from my own self-destructive behaviours.

“Meeting Poseidon and being taken care of by him and Amphitrite and Kym, Proteus, Rhodos, Theseus, and Benthesikyme didn’t make me feel any better emotionally. Not at first, at least. But it didn’t take me very long to realise Poseidon _didn’t_ have to take me in. He _didn’t_ have to try to be a father to me when I cursed at him and threatened to fight him. 

“Poseidon _wanted_ to be my father. He had not been made aware that my mother had fallen pregnant—they had only spent an autumn together. Half-bloods are rare and always have been. The Old Ones… they know how important family is. How rare and vulnerable half-bloods are. 

“Hades would not have left your mother to her own devices with you had he another way to keep you safe.” 

It was an overcast day with gentle waves rushing to the shore. At least, that’s how it was when Percy first began. Nico hadn’t noticed it at first, but he could hear the waves crashing heavier and heavier onto the sand. He could only imagine how loud it must sound if they were outside. 

Nico watched Percy twist his fingers in his hand and his shoulders tense. He’d been in many arguments to see when people were getting upset. He wasn’t surprised to see Percy’s grip on his own hand tighten and the way he twisted his fingers got more aggressive. Nico couldn’t see if Percy’s eyes changed colour, but he felt like they might have. The man’s entire aura had seemed to change. The feeling of impending danger and anguish emanated off Percy much in the same way the waves pulled back from the shore and then came rushing back to crash violently on the sand. 

Nico’s skin tingled in a weird way—like there was too much static in the air. All the nerves in his body felt like they were vibrating, his own hands turning into fists on instinct. The hair on his arms stood straight up. The sound of the waves crashing outside was somehow louder than it was before. 

The feeling to run out of the room and steer clear of Percy was almost overwhelming, but Nico thought that feeling was stupid. He didn’t know much about Percy—even though he opened up about when he was human—but he _knew_ deep down in his stupid little soul that Percy wasn’t a danger to _him_. 

Because if he was, Nico might have been dead already. 

Even though he knew Percy wouldn’t hurt him, something almost primal in Nico reacted to the dangerous aura the vampire was giving off. The shadows in the room seemed to expand, and Nico wasn’t sure if he was imaging them moving towards him—reaching out to him like wisps of smoke. He felt like the temperature dropped, but he wasn’t _cold_. 

He felt something cushion his body. After a few seconds, he came to the weird and frightening realisation that it was the shadows almost leeching onto him. Backing him up. 

Percy seemed to notice it, too. His posture straightened and he stiffened in a weird way. He turned to Nico with slightly wide and fearful eyes. He seemed suddenly pale and his normally vibrant green eyes were a dull mossy green. 

_ Hades _ , Nico thought. _God of the Underworld_. 

He supposedly had _powers_ , and whatever the hell they were, they were reacting to Percy and Percy didn’t like it. But Nico’s body didn’t like Percy’s own power for some reason. Even as he thought it, acknowledged the way his body felt and the way the explanation just jumped to his mind, he still didn’t know what _any_ of this shit meant. 

What could Percy _really_ do? None of his family’s names had gone unnoticed to him. He’d never taken a mythology class in college, but he had vague memories of high school World History and the Ancient History I and II he took his first semester in college. All three classes had gone over Greek mythology, and he recognised the names Percy told him. 

Poseidon was the god of the sea, Nico knew that. Someone had mentioned Percy could control water, and Nico had seen what was happened to the waves outside while Percy was looking at him. He didn’t know the full extent of Percy’s abilities, let alone what _the full extent meant_ , but he was sure it had something to do with whatever the hell Poseidon could do. 

So what were _Hades’_ abilities and what had Nico inherited from him? 

“Nico,” Percy said, breaking him from his thoughts. “I want to take you somewhere.” 

Nico rose an eyebrow, feeling the shadows that were clinging to him recede back to where they had come from. “Where? I do have a job, you know. I can’t just up and leave like some Young Adult novel protagonist.” 

“I haven’t read a novel since 1983, so I don’t think I’m familiar with that genre.” 

The laugh that came out of Nico’s mouth was involuntary and it surprised him. The laugh was one of genuine humour and disbelief. They had just come out of the family _library_. It was hard to believe the room had only _textbooks_ , but that was a dumb thought because fiction has been written for centuries. Just _modern_ fiction was something Percy probably wasn’t all too familiar with. 

Percy laughed too. “I’m serious! I wasn’t very good at reading as a human. We’ve recently discovered that a lot of half-bloods have ADHD, and dyslexia can sometimes accompany the disorder.” 

“What, are you an O.G. ADHD kid?” 

“I might have been. There is no way to tell; I was born in 1381. We had no such tests then.” Nico couldn’t take his eyes off Percy’s smiling face. 

It was hard to believe how he’d felt like he was in danger only a minute ago. The atmosphere inside the room was so much different, so friendly and inviting. And Percy, he was relaxed now, smiling, and laughing, an entirely different feeling to him that Nico hadn’t witnessed yet. 

He could see bits of Percy’s personality now that they stood there smiling at each other, danger gone, and the tension dissipated. He could almost see Percy as a young man, a teenager, a child—a _human_. Nico could see him as a playful and cheery kid, unhindered by the cruelties of the world, especially _his_ world and _his_ time of feudalism. 

Nico wondered what he was like as a child, and he wondered if he and Percy would have gotten along before their own tragedies threw them into the real world before they were ready. 

“What is it?” Percy asked, noticing that Nico was just staring at him. 

Nico felt his face get hot and he knew he was obviously blushing. He cleared his throat. “Nothing. I just… wow, this might be an embarrassing admission, but I _really_ like seeing you smile. And hearing you laugh. And seeing both your smile and laughter reach your eyes. Dude, you have _dimples_.” 

His face got hotter and he shifted uncomfortably. He hadn’t really _intended_ to admit it. Percy’s smile was _gorgeous_ and _fucking contagious_ and Nico really, really, _really_ liked seeing it. Under normal circumstances, Nico wasn’t one to admit his feelings or voice his thoughts. He kept it all bottled up because he didn’t feel like they were important, and people didn’t often listen when he talked about deeper things. But admitting to Percy that he liked his smile and his laugh felt _right_ no matter how embarrassed it made him feel. 

“ _Dude_ ,” Percy wrinkled his nose with that cute soft smile of it, “there goes that word again. You _kids_ and your _dudes_.” He had a sparkle in his green eyes and Nico knew he was purposefully showing he was old for joking purposes. 

Nico rolled his eyes. 

“In all seriousness though,” Percy said, the smile fading from his lips but eyes remaining soft, “there is a _lot_ we have to talk about, especially now that we know you’re a half-blood.” 

“Does this have to do with you ‘wanting to take me somewhere’ like you can just whisk me away like I don’t have any responsibilities or prior commitments?” Nico asked, raising an eyebrow 

Percy’s sigh was heavy and the light air they had unintentionally created disappeared. It really was serious again because hardly anything in Nico’s life could be lighthearted and easy. Of _course_ , he was a half-blood, someone more delicious to vampires than humans were. Of course, there were many things he had to be spoken to about and to learn and work even _harder_ to keep himself alive. 

“I’m not going to ‘whisk you away’. I am aware that you are an adult with adult responsibilities. You have a job you must show up to if you wish to remain employed. _But_! I would like to whisk you away on your next weekend off if you don’t have other commitments.” Percy walked towards a small desk he had in his room where an open laptop sat on top next to an open notebook and uncapped pen. “I also have a job, but my bosses are my father and brothers, so I can get away with disappearing for a couple of days. Mostly. I won’t take you far, just to Long Island. There’s a camp…” 

“A _camp_?” Nico asked, a little incredulous and a little confused. 

“Yes, a camp. It’s for half-bloods. It is _actually_ called Camp Half-Blood. There is much you must learn, and I think you would enjoy it there. There are other half-bloods—children, adults, the elderly. I just… I want you to be aware that being a half-blood doesn’t mean you have to be alone and by yourself. You are not the only half-blood by any means.” 

Not alone. Nico had been hearing “you’re not alone, you know” ever since his mom and sister died, and it was almost always a lie. The only ones who’d ever proven they were telling the truth were Will and Silena and Charles Beckendorf, his last foster parents who’d turned his life around by sheer love and acceptance. 

_ You don’t have to be by yourself _ . Percy’s reassurance hit deeper than it would have had somebody else said it. Nico knew in his heart he was telling the truth. He felt like he could trust Percy even though the man hadn’t really done much in the way of proof to actually _show_ it. 

But Nico went by intuition first and rationality second. His gut told him he could trust Percy and his rational brain was almost all the way on board. Percy could have killed him the first night they were together. He could have let Triton choke the life out of him. Percy and his family trusted him with the knowledge that they were _vampires_ , for Christ’s sake. 

Nico’s gut told him that Percy was a man he could trust. His gut told him Percy was a man Nico wanted to get to know.   



End file.
